No Mind, No Fear, No Care
Look at my face: it's a blank page.
I have written on it once,
but the ink has smudged
since then.
Rip the paper, you might find
the soul.
But no, another sheet of white
stands there, alone,
another
martyr of a known
tyrant-
the sentiment, the dire
resentment
washed away by lack of thought,
mad, I'm mad! I'm free at last,
I can no longer smile
or fast,
I can no longer whiff the dust,
I can rest, yes, dull rest
in peace long after my own death.
To fear death is a choice.
I fear nothing.
Not even life.