No Man alive shall escape his demise. It's the Spirits we see so much with their plea, their Souls feel so much alive as their heart stops when they rise, they cannot fathom what sits before them. The Phantom that takes them to the Land of the Dead, a future they repel with a Surmounting feeling of Indiscriminate dread. Little do they know it is time to rest, as coins on their eyes at their untimely demise. Their life was taken without their consent, heaven is not in the cards as Doom shuffled the deck without time to reflect. Why has this happened, I had so much to say. Why was my life snuffed out like a candle? Why did it happen this way? Yours is not to question, as not even a mere suggestion. Yours is to do as God sees you are done. With so much triumphs, I was so close to have won. Thou hast done what your soul was told to do. Didn't matter how much it fit like a shoe. The love that was lost takes back seat to the cost. It is Charon that shall be paid with the coin on your eyes. No need for debate at the hour of your demise. For if he doesn't get paid to row you to the Land of the Dead. This realm your soul will waste away in unrest. A ghost in this life so shall you infest.
© Dale A Martinez