On Death.

Death, he came in
Sneaked in through the door
The windows we had shut firmly, the doors we had bolted,
Death made his way through.

He came in, and said it was time,
That her time was done, that she had to leave.
And we bewildered stood,
Begging for more time,
Pleading that there was still much to do,
Dreams to pursue, sights to see, futures to build

But death, he is not so kind...
He that made his way through bolted doors,
And broke the power of frantic prayers,
Shattered the spells we had sealed with blood.
Death said they had to leave.

Death swept over our hunched bodies,
We that would have given our honor, so she could stay longer,
So he could watch his precious ones grow.
He tore hearts to shreds,and sentenced souls to numbness.

Death, he is not so kind.
He steals from you, robs you of those who matter.
And then he takes you as well, breaking away pieces of you,
Your joy, your soul, the light in your eyes.
Death he came,
And took all of us with him.