Come No Closer

Do not come so quick, oh Death! I am aware of my bouts of mortality I am dressed in the garments of reality Come no closer, Strumming your instruments We have inhaled your essence We have known our fate for centuries There is no one like you, Too close yet so far— Growing in the pits of our bodies Festering our hopes and fears Destroying our flesh, But sparing our spirits However will I fly, When I die? For I am no free bird, Yet I’ve pecked my way to the clouds I’ve reached the point of no return Without the burn of your strum, Without the burn! I am no god, I can condemn only my broken heart I can only create what lives from my body Apart Come no closer, you buzzard! I fly not under or above your wing You’ve no place in my symphony Strumming away your dissonant chords I’ve once called you kind Till you have stolen me blind I am no bird, Nor god, But a hopeless, human heathen A beast perhaps for life, Though truth and tears still thrive