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Six Feet Under

“It won’t happen to me.”
Five words.
Everyone thinks them when they read the latest news,
“Oh, tragic, really, they seemed so nice.”
Murder, rape, car pile-ups, robbery, house fires, silly little mistakes,
“I’m glad that’ll never happen in our family.”
What makes you so sure?
When you cross the road without looking, walk to the shops in the pitch blackness, leave your car unlocked,
“I’ll only be 5 minutes!”
Really? Only five? Are you absolutely positive about that?
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
Well, count the time, you might only be in and out of the shop/petrol station/dry cleaners but…
“But what? Why do you care anyway?”

Because I was also like you. Once.
I thought, it will never happen to me, never, not possible,
But it did.
One walk to the shops in the dark + one driver texting on their phone = well, you do the math
I never made it to the hospital.

My family found out at midnight,
A knock on the door,
A grim-faced copper,
They were asked to identify my body,
I watched them do that
My mother weeping, my father trying not to.
“They were the perfect child, our only.”
Ha.
Everyone who dies is ‘perfect’,
Have you noticed?
“He was the perfect husband.”
“She was the perfect daughter.”
“They were a perfect family.”
No-one is perfect. Ever.
Deal with it.

Everyone makes mistakes.
“But it’s okay as long as you learn from them.”
You can’t learn from your own demise, my friend,
It’s not possible.

You see, no matter who you are, your race, religion, height, gender,
You will all join us here,
Permanently,
Under the ground,
Six feet under,
R.I.P





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