DEATH (Original Poem)

*Death*

your weapon is hidden
from us
and
it is for us

not a sting,
not a bullet,
not a scythe,
but
it is something
just for us

your mouth is shut
you never will tell

you just give it to us
and we take it
eventually

until we give up
the ghost

you do your job
pretty well

a round of applause