Never Let Death Hold your Hand
Never let Death hold your hand,
My mother used to say.
He'll promise you time's sands
While slipping lethargy into your veins.
His nails will seem of luminous silver,
His teeth of polished jewels.
But when observed without night's cover,
They'll reveal themselves blanch as ghouls.
So should he ever fill your eye,
Or reside beneath your ear,
Best you heed him no free mind
While praying to nether he disappear.
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