You are all around us.
You are on the street.
People would rather have you,
than have their hearts beat.
You are in the barrel of a gun
or on the tip of a knife.
People give you to another's life.
You are on the end of a needle
or on a razor blade.
With you it's safe to say the price was paid.
You are in our uncontrolable hand.
You're even in the god damn food we eat.
FUCK YOU!!! WHY CAN'T YOU BE BEAT?!?!
I'm not talking about when you take us
by old age.
I am only talking about when we haven't
finished writing our last page.
What are you?
You are Death.
And Death, you suck!
My poem for Jerad Mitchell
My Wrestling Pictures