It Comes In 3 Poem by Roisin McNally

Death is comes in three.
But little know.
A single person dies
2 more after.
I have suffered this fate
In a single week.

Saturday a distance cousin of 85.
Friday morning a Grand Aunt of 68.
Friday night a kitten of a few weeks.
Slowly dies in my kitchen
A sea of tears have fallen
A single family with a broken heart

I did not cry till number three.
My cousin was old. He is now in peace with his family.
My Grand Aunt was ill. She can now rest
But the kitten was young and dying before my eyes.
I see its life slip away.
I feel his heart stop.

3 is the number of the devils brother.
3 is the number ways to die
3 is the number of final heartbeats
3 is the number of death
3 is the number of souls
That are now in a deep sleep of peace.