Don't Fear the Reaper

Do you ever think

of how often

you escape

death’s clutches,

and you don’t even notice?


When crossing the street,

and the driver in the nearby car

nearly hits you

because they got a text

from their best friend

and just couldn’t wait to reply?


When you space out,

just for a second,

behind the wheel of your car,

and when you tune in again,

you’re halfway down the road?


When you walk around

a handyman’s ladder

and don’t notice that he dropped

a hammer

that barely missed your head?


When your hand slips

while dicing tomatoes

and you laugh,

because hey,

isn’t it funny that you nearly

chopped off your own hand?









It sounds too bad

to be true.


It’s one of those things

where you think,

“Well, yeah,

it happens to other people.

But not me.

I’m the exception.”

“I’m not dying.”

“I won’t get cancer.”

“Heart attacks happen to other people.”



when we stare death in the face,

we’re still in denial

about our own mortality.

“It can’t be my time, right?”

“I must’ve misheard the doctor.”

“Man, that truck is coming at me fast.”


Can you blame me

that I’m afraid?

Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741