Incarnation of Death – do you think my life to be but a joke?
While you may be a master of the dead and the undead,
You know as much about life as a chick does of its yoke.
It's far more than survival and just to sleep and be fed.
You can't truly feel the things I do,
But you couldn't tell from my act.
People see only my superficial hue,
Not the shades and tints that I once lacked.
I'll make it through with my saving grace –
But how would any other cope with what I must?
I can stop any tempest; I can meet any pace,
In time I can be anything, from gold to dust.
I suppose I have the time, as well,
Everyone else is falling, falling forever,
While I slump, stumble, and prevent my fell.
Time is irrelevant; time is nothing.
I don't know how long I can keep changing,
I don't know if everything I've done is worth it all,
You take another and I feel us estranging,
Will I ever get to meet you after all?
I have knocked twice at your door,
And both times you refused my access,
Like back in the day, long before,
Life is just something I have in excess.
You take my dog, my cat, and my brother,
I wonder what plans you have for me –
Who is next in line, possibly a lover?
You can't keep doing this – can't you see?
My immortality is waning,
My love for life is failing,
And my hope for death is gaining,
Contrary to those things, my heart is hailing.