Bell From Hell Poem by Friday Dejavu

We are scared of who we are,
We run from ourselves to no avail.
Why do we abandon them
When we are all like them.

When I stare at their stones
I hear their silent tones
Why is their home desolate?
When our call is never late.

We let them alone under trees
Avoiding the peace we all crave
Quietness is priceless there
Go to the cemetery and learn rest.

The cemetery is my inspiration
Their tombstones, my reflection.
Why do we dread this end?
When its coming we cannot bargain.

The end is my expectations
For it, I make my preparations
Stop faking, pause and reflect.
To what end are you running in vain.

Make peace with your marker
In his presence your end is spare not
While we breath, worship God.
Fear He who cannot end.