DEATH O DEATH
Come to me, my dear
For the pain of not having you I can no longer bear
Come and give this consignment, from this Earth Wharf, a clear.
Before now, of you, I had such a great fear
But now I need you in top gear.
Your voice beckoning me is what I want to hear
Come to me in a motion linear,
For my passion for life has been made sear.
Yes I know taking me away would cause some people to shed a tear
But it would also prevent any more wear,
It would most likely be, for everyone, the best year.
So take my hand, bring me beyond the river
For at this juncture, I am no longer a believer
I thought I would make an expert caver
But apparently I was not that clever
Because now the rocks above me have given my head, from my neck, a sever.
I thought I would make an expert diver
But apparently this is no friendly river.
It is so cold, I have caught a serious fever
So please take back your gift, life-giver.
Let us bring this joke to an end
For the reason behind it is now very difficult to comprehend,
It was meant to be a friend
But now it seems to attack me on-end.
We would have thought to make an amend
But this is not some tear that one could mend.
It is more like a large lump of pain, that does pend
In dealing with it, we have made a bumbling huge spend
Yet the pain, it does not hesitate to defiantly vend.
I agree with you all.
I think it is high time I answered death's call,
To his bullet I should immediately fall.
For of what essence is it if I would just go on feeling like gall.
It is painful walking this hall,
A torturous experience in all.
I think it is not an overstatement to say we've hit a brickwall.
So let's kindly count our losses
And the few glosses,
For I have tried over and again to join the league of bosses,
To become one of the many colossuses
But my license, the chief never endorses.
Every avenue I try, he flosses
And stations at the entrance, powerful garrisoned horses.
Stripping me of any kind of good josses
Making my life one of worst of mosses
A little finer than some seriously ugly rosses
A little more beautiful than an area of sosses
Successfully making me feel like a member of the league of albatrosses.
I guess that was His plan all along
To show me that I do not, in this life, belong.
Little wonder He put in so much chiong
In making sure I turned out a deformed flong.
I bet, up in his residence, he'll beating a celebration gong
That he had finally had me hung.
Come snatch away my breath
O kind Death
Conquer my health
Put me six feet underneath
Amidst the brown'd wreath.
There is basically no use keeping me alive any more,
For it would only make the world much more sore.