I hold it in my hands

So delicate and fragile

This tiny life which, today

I have taken

I am not a murderer

But a simple employee

I do not know my boss

But know full well my job title

I am Death- each day I choose

Who lives and who dies

Ask most people

And I’m sure they’d say

That must be the most difficult

Task in the world.

How can you pick?

How can you choose the death

Of a child? Of a mother?

Of a good king? Of a homeless beggar?

But once you’ve been in this position

As long as I have

Once you’ve made the decision

A few hundred times

It gets easier

You realised that life is more

Than fragile- it’s vapour, mist

It’s gone so quickly it’s barely there

Whether it lasts for 70 years

Or only a few minutes

Whether it was full of love and joy

Or hatred, anger, sadness

When it comes to the end

It’s all the same blip in space

That’s not to say that I enjoy

My employment, or even am

Numb to the pain. No.

As I hold this life in my hands

One that by human standards

Was cut far too short

I feel the grief in my heart of those

Who are left, spared for another day

But I must do my task, for I am Death

And to each person give a final breath