Death, My Dear Friend
Those who say that Death is vile,
Know Him not like I do.
He mends my heart that once was two,
And triggers satiety with His smile.
He whisks away those with all to give:
To save them from this Earth.
From its horrors He gives them berth;
Harbor from the wicked who live.
They stagger onward, praising Life,
Oblivious to Death's comfort.
Unaware that there's no more hurt,
While those now gone are blithe.
Death, He is my grandest friend;
Eternal and ethereal.
At His feet I'll always kneel,
And for Him, hasten my end.
Copyright © Danny Stinson | Year Posted 2012