Mortem

Death is real, real as the decay of ancient art

Death is real, more real than the fade of a heart

Death is real, as real as the families it tears apart

Death is real, real as old grapes turning sweet then tart

Death is the uninvited guest, one that we all let in

Whether we want it to or not, in spite of our sin

May we be good, may we be not, may we be good within

Death follows us from where we end to where we begin

Fallen apostates cry out for help, but none shall aid them

Religious zealots humor themselves at those they condemn

As the victim chokes on his own blood, his own phlegm

Cloth tears as he reaches and grasps thorns by the hem

The forsaken shall be left nameless, beneath a bed of sand

Their lives taken at the behest of the reaper’s hand

For, if life shall continue, a sacrifice is what they demand

Or, so the zealots claim as it has been foretold and planned

Blood as it drips from the pierced hand by the thorn

The savior’s head glows crimson with the crown he must adorn

The past sacrifice of every unfaithful father’s first born

Those they had sworn to protect, they must then mourn

Angels wings that were clipped for the betrayal of His honor

Their pride filled their hearts as they rejected the first scholar

His wisdom and divine teachings they deemed to be a bother

And turned their backs on the being they once called father

Spirits incapable of releasing their screams or their mourning

Funeral clothing now torn seams of what they were adorning

The tears of loved ones fruit the rot that will begin transforming

The once living body of the loved one that they once were adoring

Dark daemons speak of the folly that shall become their subject

Fear overcomes them of inevitable doom that the daemons project

Terror consumes the life of those He does not protect

As the horror of the inevitable fuels the daemon with prospect

Necrosis consumes all in the rot, be it the haves or the have not

And with it dies the history of those soon to be forgot

Nothing is eternal and death is but a part of the plot

More permanent than life itself, its grip tighter than any knot

Despite the end that comes, enjoy what can be found around you

There is so much to experience, both the old and the new

Enjoy those around you, be it many or just a few

For, one day, the reaper shall come to claim you too