the deathbed conversion

when the sick one laying there

looked around for their “loved ones,”

all they saw were white coats &

when the white coats left them,

all they saw were white walls &

when they squinted their little eyes

closed, to try & talk to

“him” (whatever fictional character(s)

that they’d devoted a large portion of

their life to---typically the latter “i’m

dying” years),

all they got was silence---

still babbling to themselves in their own

head,

trying to convey a message to that “force”

which they’d been told all the time

worshipping,

that was supposed to come & console them

in their time of greatest need,

but alas,

nothing came---

alas,

no one said a word to them &

time passed, as it does,

regardless of whether allah, jesus, buddha,

moses, muhammad, yahweh, santa claus or

the goddamned easter bunny

is supposed to show---

so at last, in those final moments,

the dying decided that all along

they’d been following the herd,

they’d been believing a special kind of lie,

they had been

deceived

by people who weren’t even in the room,

when the s**t hit the fan &

there was a deathbed conversion,

but it was to

disbelief---

but there was no

i-told-ya-so believer

waiting with a legion of video cameras &

recording devices of all shapes & colors,

as they do when they come to

taint a public nonbeliever’s reputation

for all of eternity,

when one is at their weakest in a bed

alone,

breathing their last breaths---

because, no one wants to be proven

wrong,

especially when they’re doing their

damndest, to prove themselves

right.