When death comes knocking at their door
They say their blessing and feel remorse
They lay dormant waiting for the knock
Paid no mind to the tics on their clock
Death, you're OLD!
You rickety old bone
You're so slow
And always alone!
The next time you knock at my door
I'll climb through the god damn window once more!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem