Better Than One ~ Philip Brent

Although flies shall feast upon the face of death
I don’t care to sever them from their short lives
It is the natural way, we express in every breath
All follow our own natures until our end arrives

Yet still flies linger, called to my warm breathing
Do they remind or only irritate by their pestering
Would I swat one dead, will it impugn by leaving
Tipping point toppling all, in my psyche festering

Unclean, they crawl on your skin, food and more
Creation, corruption twins conjoined at the crown
Each completing the other is what we have in store
As secure as gravity; what goes up will come down