The Last Blow

Thou cometh
Too silently…
Too suddenly…
Too unheavenly!
Death, thou cometh but creepingly

Unsolicited host of father and brother
The uninvited guest in mama’s chamber
And now, thou art my very own next door neighbour
Sipping the very life out of me
Death!
Thou who cometh in without asking
Churning glowing faces into rusting
When thou calleth me to the casket
The soul is but too lame to resist
Could I ever skip you…?
When thou art to me, akin?
-I rhetorically keep asking.

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