John Alexander Alegre
Death - Poem by John Alexander Alegre
He is always around us,
with his finger on the cord,
Death always keeps his promise,
he always keeps his word.
He has his place,
he has his purpose,
he watches us race,
like we watch a circus.
Our lives mean nothing to him,
what is life to an immortal?
To Him we are but a whim,
that he views through beige portals.
Eventually we all meet him,
a meeting some are lucky to postpone,
How will you greet him,
when he comes for you when you're alone?
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