First, one word.

Is Death insane?

There had to be

so many others.

But how many?

Why 608?

How many words

fill those pages?

If Death

Would’ve had

Some respect,

It would’ve spelled

One word for each

body.

For each Human

Soul.

Who knows?

No one had

ever counted.

Maybe the number

of words is right.

But not in that way,

‘Cause not even

one is right.

There should’ve been

None.

Death knows nothing,

No fear growing on the inside.

Death wants no side,

Death is colder than that one,

he doesn’t even deserve

his name to be spelled,

That mess going all over

Again, up and down

Who counted the words,

Smiling each time

Someone was going

Trough the madness.

He used millions

of fingers for counting.

‘Till death had cut down

all his fingers.

Too many words, way too many.

Death wrote the story.

No, there’s no children story,

But it’s called history.

We regret this word right after

we say it.

Think twice before writing it

all over again.

What do you want to gain?

There are no human features

behind this painting,

Still, pay attention,

It has a human’s story

carved in its frame.

Showing it proudly,

There is no shame

In dying,

When you won’t be denying

That you can control this fighting

And take it to an end.

Just take it away from Death.

Is heart warming,

Reading a painful

story,

Haven’t you thought

about it?

That it shouldn’t have

happened. Never.

Even though it changed

History.

And it changed the human heart,

Our native features.

For forever.

Death, why have you remained un afraid?

There must be something deeper.

Not only Life’s purpose surrender .

You haven’t remained Death.

Where are the stories?

You take and take and take and….

No words.

You need to rest, don’t you?

You just can’t anymore,

Do you?

Is that true….that you’ve

Grown into something new?

Have you become a Someone?

Are you that Death with native human features?