The Death Cascade

​I was wondering if we really die in this life time or not?

​It’s just us, on a different stage, how affectionately we held onto this life, 

but were we really affectionate about it on the brim of the knife?

Bruised, smiled, helped, your hair unkempt, your wistfulness or your satire in dress,

did you cradle yourself every day? 

to get past what’s mourning you,

did you make yourself a bibliophile to get lost in what’s beyond you, 

did you staple your soul with mind, to let them stay intact in array,

or you simple juggled with thoughts, crowing yourself the clown of today.