bad poetry

Every day we rise from bed, we make the same decision.
Today I will not join the dead, I'll stay among the living
Recompense you won't receive, though it's the right decision
save the joy you can savor from the air you are breathing

I will not join the dead today, I'll stay among the quick
Though nothing keeps me from that door except I choose to live
Nothing but the air and the sun and the earth
and the mystery that beckons us wherever we might look