Clothed in midnight robes
The figure wept onyx tears
As the young girl spoke
Stealing her mother, proving her fears.

Death's cloak dragged across the floor,
Silent; speaking no words.
Death rubbed his head so sore,
And was glad the lady's breath was heard no more.

Twenty-seven years later,
My mother smiles at me,
And I ask Death one favor;
Just leave her be
I plea.

It's dirty breath unfurls through the air,
A constant threat.
It's ebony shadows stalk the unaware,
Waiting for the moment to get,
It's human cigarette.

She is not your fix,
She is not ready.
My mother will not be abused
With your inky machete.

Death, you can wait a while.
Death, leave her alone.
Death, don't you know she would answer the phone?
Her selfless soul would reluctantly obey.

She persists,
When it's my time, dear,
It's time.
I'll personally wipe it's onyx tears.

I'll be fine,
She says.
Death,
Don't.

Because I won't.