Dear Death...

Dear Death,

I used to hate you.

Actually, hate is an understatement.

But over time, I have come to be your biggest pupil.

You possess every trait one would say a teacher should have.

BUT, the difference between you and my many other instructors whose opinions of themselves are something in comparison to those of a GOD, is you were the only one who taught me the effect of loss and the importance of understanding.

After the first loss, your bite was new.

The first loss was a period of pure rage, and the commencement of everlasting hurt.

Everything I knew on the topic of you did not compare to the roller coaster of feelings you put me through after that first loss.

After the second loss, the sting was just as strong as the first.

During that second loss, I noticed that people do not realize your true form and that you have one. I searched for your true form but found myself unlucky.

This form, although not visible, was, in fact, real.

The third loss convinced me that you compare to a thief in the night and human beings are merely the possessions at the residence that you have forced yourself into.

By the fifth loss, I felt nothing but empathy for you.

It is always the people with the worst jobs that are hated the most.

This job is not one that was assigned through an application process. No initial interest was shown. And this was not a position that “a million people would kill for”. You were assigned this job, and that is all. No one is ever supposed to blame the messenger, but you bear the burden constantly. You bear that burden, but no one understands that you are only doing what is asked of you. This is the daily task of roaming in search of silenced souls and kindly transporting it from one life to the next.

When I came understand this, I could no longer hate you for what was forced on you.

You do not deserve to be hated, because this job is one that is not taken lightly and must be done.

And for that, I respect you.

 

Sincerely,

The Empathetic 

This poem is about: 
Me

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