The First Man Who Died of Fear
At the end of a pacific night
Where only roars of the wind could be heard
And only black controls the sight
Amid these roars was a marching man with a white beard
He was trying to fetch one source of light
Suddenly, he heard a sound that seemed weird
He started to plunge into a river of fright
A galloping, black horse had just appeared
The man was really afraid; he can not see a knight
Also the horse was not geared.
He was sure that he will not survive tonight
The man closed his eyes and waited to be cleared
He was very certain that he can not fight
He wished that someone would have volunteered
But, he murmured ‘it is too late to think about this, right’
The remnants of hope in his heart disappeared
The man did not want his soul to contrite;
That he did not do anything but feared.
So, he held his knife with a good tight;
And stabbed his body with a yellow sneer
To be the first man who died of fear.
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