This action might not be possible to undo. Are you sure you want to continue?
Original Poem by Yamil Báez July 6, 2012
She decided when to die. That is the best ego trip of all, no? The ultimate I am----I am not. The date--her favorite number. Her favorite season. Nothing but the best. What else? The important details: What to wear? Black or other colors? Curly or straight? Heels or flats? Lipstick or gloss? ¡Hold up! ¡Espérate! …… aren’t those the nagging questions that begged the decision? “Ah!!...that’s right!” That … and… “why, why be?” I’ll rest when I die. I’m guessing that that is when I’ll rest. There is toil in living, toil in dying. If there’s toil in death, is that all we have? I’ll rest in death she thinks. I hope that is up to me.