THE LAST ENEMY OR THE REASON WHY DEATH IS SO SLOW
Some days I’m glad
To see a weakening
A wasting of, the self
I’ve come to slay.
But there are other days,
I cannot comprehend,
How she who slays
Can be the slain.
Then all confused
I bind the self - inflicted
Wounds. And self - revived,
I live to die.
