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SLOW DEATH I know not when death will come No banshee cry or knock on the door It creeps and crawls, a steady hum upon the stoop, beneath the floor A future that I can not reverse nor prepare myself with dying fear A calling that comes so perverse When it whispers "someday is near" The final bell must always toll An indeterminent fate of my misgiving Death comes early to achieve it's goal. In life if I choose to stop living |
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11/11/2011 7:37 pm |
We all have to face it, sooner or later. There is only one thing standing between nobama and Marxist tyranny: We, the People!!
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