When I can’t sleep at night 

I count all the patients I’ve seen pass 

It’s a habit that could also help one get through a long mass 

Early this morning I got up to 22 

All people I knew  

I also meditated on what took them out 

A few lung cancers 

A pulmonary embolism 

Ampulla of Vatar carcinoma 

Don’t let the names throw ya

I wonder if it’s all symbolism 

For something greater 

Aggressive, stage 4, metastatic 

It’s like black magic 

Death is a hoarder 

Insatiable for more 

I recognized some of the names in the obituary today

Those of people I had thought maybe got away 

The best medicines and wheelchairs aren’t fast enough 

Nor is all the sterile hospital fluff 

I count the deceased, not sheep 

From all the taking, what does Death reap?

And I ponder how and when it’ll come for me 

As I hear the clock tick 

I think of how our lives are like a candle’s wick 

Fragile, easily severable 

Flammable 

I count a few more but can’t compete 

Enough life has passed by 

And I finally fall asleep