Publish and die (hopefully in that order)

I  know  the  silence  will  swallow  
every  “Why  me?”  anyway.  
So  why  bother?  Besides,
I’m  not  dead  yet,  even  though  
every  passing  day  stills  the  heart  and  
steals  the  breath.  
“One  day  less”.

They  said  I  had  a  year  left.
I  wondered  what  to  do?  Hurry?
Get  angry  at  the  calendar?
I  did.  Time  still  refused  to  stop.  
So  I  seem  braver  now.  

Part  of  it  is,  yes,  
the  finger  to  the  consequences,  
and  some  of  it  is  that  
what  people  think  and  all  my  
insecure  little  hang  ups,  
seem  unimportant  next  to
the  relentless  tick.  

You  wonder  what  I  do?  
I  throw  words  against  oblivion  
Writing  is  the  only  thing  I  hurry  with.  
Chasing  masterpiece  or  epitaph.  
I  want  to  get  published  before…  well,
But  even  if  not  –  I  wouldn’t  be  sad.  
The  words  will  stay  behind  anyhow…

àäðåñà: https://www.poetryclub.com.ua/getpoem.php?id=765864
Ðóáðèêà: ³ðø³, ùî íå óâ³éøëè äî ðóáðèêè
äàòà íàäõîäæåííÿ 13.12.2017
àâòîð: petra pan