If I could change life,
there would be no death.
What is the sense of living,
if you’re soon stolen of breath?
Life is such a coy thing
with the way it likes to play.
Why does it look to be so cruel
by taking people away?
I don’t understand it.
I guess I never will.
To fall in love and die someday
can be the final kill.
So won’t you try to analyze
the results of even trying.
There’s no use in living
when we’re already dying.

9-19-91 Written by Gail Brookshire
(by the grace of God)
PS. This was written years ago from the hurt of so much loss. Especially the loss of my cousin Dean, who was just 19 and died a week before graduating high school.