The Last Death

The plans were made, the funds were raised,
Men summoned whose intellect was praised.
Playing God, they hardly had the right,
The death was the result of the humanity’s might.

Living in a world of disease and decay,
In a time of pain and judgment day,
He saw his own fate many a time,
In the eyes of dying men and their wives.

In their beds they would lie, faces all grey,
Waiting for the pain to go away.
The windows of the souls sealed shut.
Their bodies left on their own to rot.

He buried them safe and deep,
Sat by the graves to pray and weep.
Some graves were bigger and some were not,
The smaller ones were quite allot.

With each hole dug his soul tore apart,
So many pieces and a crushed heart.
As the last dead to the ground fell,
He realized that he was alone in hell.

First came the cough, then the bleeding.
For the quick death he was pleading.
To rest his body, he laid in his bed,
The only thing that remained was the Death.