To kill is to die. Blood does not mix well With the human mind; Oil & water, but we must die, Killed by life well lived Or too short to enjoy, To know the value of death. & when blood, incurred With wrath, touch body, Something happens; like acid Eroding earth, air eating iron, You become deformed, incomplete. Yet life kills random, careless & the earth is littered with The graves of small deeds even On the floor; the last gasp Of an ant, the grand plot Of a spider's web, the patience Of a gecko ogling the coming night. To kill is to know, to die Is to forget all knowledge. You have killed, your eyes wild, Your blood on boil, & how small Do you feel, how long do you Take before the tiny black door Beckons to you, opens wide, warm, Sweet before you & shows you The truth; to kill is to be Shackled, to die is to be free? *** ![spider1646340_1280.jpg](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/warpedpoetic/nNor6PT8-spider-1646340_1280.jpg) 📷: <sub>*[pixabay](https://pixabay.com/photos/spider-araneus-insect-web-close-up-1646340/)*</sub> *** ©Osahon, 2020.