Death Is
I see Brian's head cracking
against the concrete and his chest halt,
his brawny frame taking its last
breath on the asphalt.
I see the boy whose
name I cannot rip from my lips
with a gun to his head, and the trigger he grips
paints the wall red.
This is what death is to me.
The violent, the tragic, the spirit as it
abandons the body.
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