The Poet's Eye

Death

It walks in broad daylight and slinks off in the night.
It wanders the streets and staunters in the halls.
It lets us eat, rejoice, and be merry.
It bides its time to come for us all.
We cannot escape its cold, stone hard grip.
It holds us by the throat as our life force begins to slip.
We cannot escape this horrible fate.
It comes for us, asleep or awake.
As to what comes next, no one knows.
But the name we do know, of this sickening foe...
His name is Death.