Poetry

Poetry. I've written some. It might be terrible. Here it is. 

Death's Cruel Machinations

It's not that I would welcome death,

though that way it may seem

to those who cannot read the thoughts

inside my mind. It teems

with overwhelming notions -

thoughts that suffocate and choke -

conspiring with Death's cruel plan

to trap me in his joke.

I've battled Death now countless times

while in my mind he's been,

but I can only fight so long

before I start to dream

of giving up, and leaving this

enfeebled mind forever,

with Death politely helping me

achieve this kind endeavour.

But yet, I know these tantalising

thoughts are not my own -

they're Death's cruel machinations, and

his plots I can postpone.

As long as I'm aware of this,

and I am in control,

I'll carry on this feud with him;

he will not reach his goal.