I am very scared of death

Which creeps quicker than breath

Black, dismal darkness sweeping

Through your vision; leaping

Luring you deeper

Into its ink-red pools growing steeper

And shrouding you with Worry

Always in a hurry

Luring you deeper

Into its ink-red pools; 

You try to make up for every wrong thing

You say, do, haven’t; pouring out like thin string

Yet, that string soon breaks; your eyes slam 

Shut; You’re lying still as if a clam

Slowly decaying to bones

Flesh tearing off; eyes vacant zones

Strangely, the way you die is sudden

Heart-jolting, muderous; blood in

spurting bursts

A dreaded curse

To endure

Yet, there are things that we should

Do; off living long, doing good 

While we stay here for a certain time

That passes by