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.