Catherine Collins Poet I do not know?

The Bottle's In Your Hand

This is it
This is the day it all changes
It all just rearranges
So it can all fit
Into this oddly shaped mold
In order
For you to grow old
The answers to all your questions lay in an old decoder
You tell me you'd like to go in peace
But please, you beg, don't put me in a box
You don't want to be known as the dearly departed
Because life's not supposed to end before it ever even got started
Sitting there, spaced out, on a pile of ancient rocks
Not much of a life for you to try and piece 
Together, well, whatever
And so on, and son, forever and ever
To help you remember
The changes, that never
Even took place
Along with all the memories you've tried to replace
You play dead
You said
Because you're living in fear
Having to let go of all that you once held near & dear
I hope it will come as no surprise
You know, the news of your untimely demise
Or would you prefer it to be called, the end of all your days to come
If you must--just go
Go right out the back door
Because I know you've never wanted to leave more
But, do you dare go?.......NO!
You just stay the same with your hand permanently occupied by that bottle of rum

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