I know Death.
He could have been my friend;
he wanted to talk.
But I was afraid.

I know Death.
He sat next to me.
Played with his
mechanical pencils.
Had a cast on.

I know Death.
He shoplifted.
Got caught, but they couldn't find what he had stolen.
He had 9 more 0.7 mechanical pencils than were necessary.

I know Death.
He likes computers;
probably
wanted a career involving them.

I know Death.
He pronounced things wrong.
Just the little details; barely anyone noticed.
It was almost cute.

I know Death.
He finished his essay first
showed the teacher first
teacher said it was good, but none of us will ever know.

I know death.
I know the sadness it brings
To strangers
To passersby
in different classes
who barely knew his name.

I know the fear.
To think that something so
seemingly obvious
seemingly permanent
normal normal normal
is not
obvious,
or permanent,
or normal.

To expect it there the next day.
And the next and the next and the next
simply because
until its Death,
it was there
everyday.
And the next and the next and the next.

I know Death.
I hated it.
Until it happened.
And when you know death;
when you really know it;
crying in the dark
watching proud boys struggle not to,
wondering
why why why
something so difficult to make
could be so easily taken away,
and how such a feeling
(strong enough to make me cry the most selfless tears that I have in years)
could be defined in two lines
in a stupid little poem
that looks empty
doesn't feel like enough
but there is nothing else to add to make
D E A T H
readable;

When you really really know it,
there is nothing
more
simple.