how can i be afraid of dying
when i have my toes
my fingers touching one another
my undulating skin
i will not die alone but
with my neck stretched high
with my calves slung low
how can i be afraid of dying
when i have a nose that can smell
and a mind
i am hardly alone in my own body
working to make my chest pump
in and out
working to make my voice speak
how can i be afraid of dying
when i can close my eyes
and whisper myself sweet nothings
lull myself into darkness
gently
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