Poem
...evermore. Death appears when you have reached the final number, Roll of the dice, a number not nice, To grab more souls, no amount would suffice, Death is an unavoidable vigor to take us into its internal slumber…nevermore. Death often appears in your very bedchamber, You not be worrying about a thing on your head, You can wake up dead on your bed instead, Death is a predictable might to take us into its internal slumber…nevermore. Death, however is often a relief for those that are cucumbers, With a life of misery and despair, Can be relieved of their functions impaired, Death is an expected power to take us into its internal slumber…nevermore. Death can be forced upon by another such as a bomber, The life of an innocent would be cut short, And death would be a last resort, Death is certain oblige to take us into its internal slumb...