Sewn into the seamless coat of mortality.
You fear death, yet you are dying.
The color of memories fading like a sun- bleached painting.
For you are cursed with the fatal disease of age.
Heavenly punishment on the poisoned soul of man.

You have tasted the bitter-sweet flavor of death,
Savored it as it ran down your throat and dripped off your chin.
Gorging yourself until all that is left is a hollow shell of existence.
Like Eve with the fruit of omnipotence.
You could not resist the temptation to break the tender black skin,
Your once caring face replaced by the hard mask of apathy.

What is death that it is so feared?
Is it the coldness of a blood drained cheek?
Or the eyes that look but do not see?
For there is no silence greater than that of the grave.
What does your spirit hear as it dwells in the earth?
The singing of nearby souls,
Or the screams of the damned, confessing their sins in torment.
You will listen to their eternal wail of lost hope, forbidden love, and tears that cannot be shed.
For you, mortal man, have been cursed with this fate since you took your first poisoned breath.