I play a coward’s game with death:

I pretend that I don’t see

whenever he comes calling 

on those who’re close to me.

When my dog grew gravely ill,

I rushed her in for care.

I brought her to the vet’s and then

I simply left her there.

She was kind enough to die that night

when I could not be there.

And selfish me was glad she did;

the pain I could not bear.

Why do I play such foolish games?

Perhaps so I won’t see

that I’ll not live forever,

and Death will come for me. 

          -- Dorien Grey