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Contributor: Milton P. Ehrlich

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Most people think
it’s like going to sleep
and never waking up.
Some worry they may
not be dead-dead,
and will have a panic attack
in a windowless coffin.
I figure it’s no different
than pissing and moaning
over a rejecting lover.
Life was her name,
and she doesn’t love
you at all anymore.
You better develop a muscle
to wrestle with hurt feelings.
Your relationship is over.
It may be time to kill yourself.
She doesn’t give a rat’s ass
about whether you live or die.
You can now float through space
with rocks and dirt in your mouth,
dead ants will cling to your teeth.
Smile, and say hello Mr. Death.

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Milton P. Ehrlich, Ph.D. is an 85-year-old psychologist. A Korean War veteran, he’s published numerous poems in periodicals such as "Descant," "Wisconsin Review," "Rutherford Red Wheelbarrow," "Toronto Quarterly Review," "Christian Science Monitor," "Huffington Post," and the "New York Times."


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