Men like me are
a dieing breed.
Death is normal to us,
it's understood.
Understanding it helps suffocate the fear
but the fear only dies with you;
when a piece of you dies or the puzzle comes apart.
No matter how my heart stops, it's true,
it will. And, it's not easy to know,
we're so fragile when we face the truth.
So alone in a crowded room.
