Alone, I am unaided,

forsaken, and without a chance.

I am struggling, but still not faded;

I am striving to maintain my stance.

And yet, death draws ever nearer-

solemn, sinister, stimulating strife and hostility.

As my liveliness fogs, the unknown becomes clearer:

inevitable, death is life’s only guarantee.

Like prey deprived of hope in the jaws of a cold black snake,

I surrender myself before death’s grotesque feet.

To my astonishment, death holds no sting, nor the slightest ache;

however, all sorrows and grievances are thus complete.

What was once feared is now peacefully welcome.

My body was inadequate and frail,

my innards as dull and useless as old chewing gum:

I was a tossed out sketch lacking detail.

Finally, I am at rest.

 I do not sigh, cry, or have cause to whine.

There is no reason to feel oppressed or stressed.

Death may have won, but true victory is mine.

Finally, I am at rest.