Book of Death

The Beginning Of The End

If you're reading this, I've left this pain-struck world.

My body rests inside a wooden box, beneath the filth of dirt and mold.

My mind is empty, without a thought—free from the burden of the old.

Do not feel sorry nor should you grieve, my soul has parted and feels relief.

It's now a part between the plains. It's now the only thing remains.

And if you care to hear the tale, then grab a chair and be prepared.

For in the book there are but lines about the ruthless shades of life.