An Ode to Death

December 8, 2007
I dreamed one stormy night
A dream that would give others a fright
It scared me not; it was quite pleaseing to behold
The dream itself like liquid gold; rushing and churning in the vains
How can it be that many don't wish for the pain?

The dream was held in a place
right between the pills and the slashing
the place was magnificent and the people were all dazzling.
In crimson red suits and fedoras on their domes
The wierd thing about it is that the burning flames felt like home

Death stood there in the very mist of darkness
looking quite serene and crisp
He beckoned me over; voice harsh with a slight lisp
I was astonished by Death's attire
He wore a sharp 3 peice woven from the fire.

As I approached this unappriciated God
He led me to the gate with just a head nod.
When I fondled the brass handles it gave me a chill
the rush was like sinsational, and I was entralled.
The only thing I hated that I awoke
The truama of not seeing death again made me cry out, choke
Before I knew it I was with death again; give death an Ode because he will eventually win.

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