Death

Death brings its scythe

As it silently walks through the halls

Going into people’s rooms

Making them breathless in their sleep

We may think it is cursed

Yet it is good both bad

Pain is led away

And pain is given

The knife enters the colorful body

Sending them into darkness

Evil as it is

It comes from Heaven too

We learn from Death,

We sob and sob and sob

And hate Death itself.

Hate is used much more

Maybe not

You never know.