Death is the Dishonour

Death is Dishonour



To lay down and let things fall - or fail
is my nemesis
stopping seems easier than anything.
To struggle seems a constant
there is very little room for clemency.
If I were to stop
who would it hurt?
Who would be any the wiser?
If I were to sit
unmoving
surely it would be good 
the fat lady could finally sing?

Would it be so bad to let things die
away?

All I know
All I can think of is the dishonour
of letting go.