No one can escape death
No matter how far you run.
It always comes to get you
When your time is done.
Most only die once
In their times of joy.
I on the other hand
Is death's little toy.
To the curse of living
I am attached by strings.
Everything I ever loved
Is gone by many things.
Those of envy and jealousy
Always say.
"You are so lucky
In many different ways."
I groan at them; disgusted
And reply and say.
"You'd hate to be me
I'm not lucky at all, no way."
Persistent little insects they are
Saying once more they say.
"But you're so daring so brave
Ofcourse you're lucky in many ways."
They don't know what they're saying
I ignore them; disgusted once more.
I mutter to myself; the stupid fools
My miserable life is full of gore.
I am surrounded by death and pain
I no longer shed tears.
I'm not fearless, daring, or brave
Because of the bitter lies and hateful leers.
Those that are full of envy
Are just jealous of a lie.
I'm not fearless of all living things
I'm just not afraid to die.
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