Death come soon,
Death come slow.
Rip me away from unfinished work
don't bother chiding it's time to go.
Death leave my mourners
with words left unsaid
paint azure skies
the day I fall dead.
Death strike me with a viper's blow
Forget foggy dreams for final words,
where relatives confess grievances
like lamenting birds.
Death do what you wish
on the day I die.
One request I have of you,
do not let them make a statistic of my demise.
The above poem is for the NaPoWriMo2021. Day 29.
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