I know death 
is inevitable.
This is a fact of life. 
Unfortunately, it means people will always
Pass you by.
Compared to the universe,
I am not well versed.
The brevity of my existence
Is a curse, at worst.
Filled with many fears,
Insignificant goodbyes,
Which ones will I hold dear,
When my age is high?

Small comforts in life
Are all too uncomfortable.
I do not value the materials
With which I have surrounded myself,
Like I value the love
With which has surrounded me.
Without which I would not be.
The love of my mother,
Which has always been.
The strength of my father,
All my next of kin.
Bonded by blood, forever in life,
Despite all struggles and all strife.

I do not know how long I will live.
But I do know death is a fact of life,
My family will never pass me by,
And if life is a blink of the eye,
I value that they were the ones I saw.
The comfort they have given me,
I will attempt to return needlessly,
Because family is not favors.
Rather, they are my saviors,
In a world so fast I would not have lasted.
To need them, is to need air.
I dedicate this poem to my parents
After all, it seems only fair.