Death

• Madeline Foster, Grade 7
• Poetry
• 2012

How long has my ghostly spirit been imprisoned here?
Yesterday I swear, I was an adolescent peer.
With my scraggy frame, hollow soul and nonexistence,
Life was pain, hard to forget, even with persistence.

All those monday mornings, dreading to go to my school,
Now I believe that this dread was me being a fool.
My life felt like molasses hardly moving at all,
But looking back, I wished that I saw life as a great haul.

My love shall travel from the corpse to those that I knew,
My repose was now a long-overdue iou.
Because I feel that only now I can intelligibly see,
That fighting death has its own moronic irony.

Don’t ever regret what you own or what you do not,
Never neglect chances or wish for ones you aint got,
When you have life don’t want opposites of what you’ve got,
Because then it seems quite apparent death you fear not.