Beauty In Death

Is it a sin? Is it a crime? That with this life of mines, All I can think about is death? I see the Sprouting Black roses, Rich in color and texture. Mesmerized I walk towards them. I have found the meaning again, Not the meaning in life But the meaning of living while dead. An endless ride with souls long gone, A chariot at full speed being led By a force unknown. My surroundings of glitters and gold, Sparkles shining in every corner I turn Illuminating the path to my yearned goal. From above I see the mortals, And their angered spirits Fighting with might not knowing their limits. How can I tell you? How can I try? Nothing compares to the panorama in sight, Fulfilling my worthless earthly life.