My Ex-Friend Death

I used to have a friend named Death,
a friendship that could never last.
From day to day, his putrid breath
Had made me shun him as the passed.

For every day, from June to May
He never stopped, to my amaze’ –
His talks about the freshly dead
(Could he have not killed me instead?)
For listening to such arid tales
was worse than if my life would fail.

He never ever stopped the talks
about his job, and how he mocks

the living (how they’re working hard),
How eas’ly they give up their guards:
In alleys, valleys, and the sea.
In war fields, four-wheels. How they plea!
To live once more, when life is lost
To shut hell’s door, delay their cross.
How humans are so dumb and dull
It’s better they not live at all.

After hearing this I’d say
“Look, I’ve had a busy day.
Get the hell out of my house
before your gabs wake up my spouse
I don’t need to hear this, see?
I just want to rest and sleep.”