Death, Shrug Off the Useless Punctuation
Cholera, my only friend
Will bring me to a bitter end
I knew that this life would be short
I cough, I retch,and sometimes snort
And yet I can't help wondering
Is there a grave worth plundering?
The answer only can be found
When we lie rotting in the ground
So when I'm lying six feet under
I will not hear the crashing thunder
My fragile spirit will remain
Our earthly struggles are in vain
I'll leave you with this lonely thought
When deathly ill or overwrought
Just think of all the past has shown you
And ignore the fact that friends don't phone you
The moving finger writes and having writ, moves on
In the game of life, you're just a pawn
But you"ll become a king or queen
When you move on
Contributors: | archaeopteryx, Randy, James Beard, Francine, dinosaur, Kansas Sam. |
Poem finished: | 18th July 2003. |