She cries her eyes out at the shear thought that some of us hate her so much

           That we choose the hauntingly permanent mystery of death,

                                                            Over her…

She tries to subside her guilt by lavishing us with the serene wonders of nature

And the blind and hopeful give in to this weak attempt at reconciliation

    But the rest of us mock her cruelty and like a child bully

                Do the same to our peers…

There something frightening about her that surpasses any fear humans have

She never means to break the people who she loves

            She’s a hostess from hell with a heart fit for heaven

In fact she invented a day and a night so that she can provide us with two dreams

One that is comprehensible, achievable, and real

                        The other distant and false but always there and retrievable

She burned her fingers trying to force the sun to shine in our direction

                  And caught a cold by begging the sky to make the world sparkle

She even sacrificed pride to cry to the universe to give us memories

                        Life risked everything to give us happiness

But she’s getting old and she forgets to remind us that God is still here

                        She forgets to watch the weather

Forgets to warn us of the dangers that she has caused through her dark innocence

                                    Can we really hate her?

Can we ever really hate Life?