He came up to me this guy and introduced
  himself
"Hello", he said, "I'm You"
I looked at him uncomprehendingly, even a
  little afraid
I thought 'How can you be me, I'm me... not
  you'
It's like he'd come to take me over
He was after my pronouns
He wanted to own me
It was like Invasion of the Body Snatchers
Or the Angel of Death, the Grim Reaper come
  to get me
I was about to take off running down the
  road
I thought "You can't take me, I... I'm already
  taken
Then I thought 'If you're me then who am I,
  I'm what then....
Maybe that was it, maybe I was a What now
And he... he was a What-not or a not-What
"You! You're You", I said back to him a little
   doubtfully
"You", he said again this time with emphasis,
  "You O'Brien"
I looked at him closely "You, you're You O'Brien" I said slowly confirming what he'd
  just said/told me
Then it hit me You!... Hugh the Borg from Star Trek (the Next Generation LoL), that episode the Borg collective Guy becomes an individual
"You're Hugh" I said greatly relieved, you're
   Hugh, Hugh with a H
It was like I'd been released 'So you're not
  me after all'.

When he'd gone though I thought, maybe if he had of being me he might have made a better job of being me than I did.

Bedded soul in the soil
Casket cassette spins
Tears in Heaven
Ripples into waves
I turn my head in the bed I lay
Now I become Death in his name
While Eric Clapton plays
I light travel dark vivaciously
Garnering the souls in the soil

An unusual kiss

from an old friend

I didn’t think
this is how it would end

My reaper stole me away
before you could hold me

resting in my coffin
Permanently lost

One hand still open,
searching for what couldn’t be

Cursed to sleep
in my misery

so he sits and waits
for the knock at the door
that isn’t a knock
the blindness of a light
brighter than the sun
that isn’t a light
an open pathway
that isn’t a road of any kind
for the man with the scythe
and the winning smile
who doesn’t exist
well not on this plain
he can feel the end is starting
with a new beginning
and death
whatever that is
has come to take his soul

now he knows the answer we all seek

Do You Know Death by Nikki Rountree
You know, Death, can be a very scary thing
Death and the Grim Reaper having their fling
A snap of  Death's finger and then **** you are gone
There is always this battle between how we want to keep them
And when God wants them home
Oh, Death, do you have a heart at all
They are here one day and then they're gone
I'm perplexed--just like others I start thinking, who's next
Dare I say that you are not very complex--at best-- I would call you simple
Oh death, you are no friend
because we know eventually you will win
Grim Reaper, yes, that's your identical twin—
always creeping around looking for his next victory to win.
Death, I don't have to see you coming to know that one day you will.  
You and that reaper---always asking, "Can I keep her?  Can I keep him?"
As the old song says and I am glad to sing it to you --Weeping may endure through the night, but the joy comes....in the morning.
Mourning--no one can tell you a timeline. No one can countdown the days you grieve
Mourn at your own pace; there's no race,
but also seems like there is no reprieve
Death--we know you are real-I believe I do believe
Death-- you know that you have power in the tongue
It's said that death comes in threes- please don't take another one
I was told to write this poem...thinking it might take my sadness away
Spill my feelings by putting pen to paper;
Drying up my tears as I spill my thoughts like—
a person spills the beans
Releasing the ink that will break the link;
that makes me wonder what all this means
But then in the twinkling of an eye, you make us have to say good bye.
to the ones we love
Oh Death, today will be the last day I shed a tear
because this poem has released me
to no longer have any fear
over losing what's held so dear
Because, just as much as we hate the loss
It's inevitable that we not become lost
Live life to the fullest each day
Tell the people you love
how much you love them in every way
Because as you can see, if you don't, you won't have time
and death will come when it’s the very last thing that’s on your mind.
Like I asked....Do you know death?

Mundane celebrations to mask our ever closing demise
Working 9 to 5s, never fully enjoying our limited lives
Never knowing which day will be our last
So we choose to slave away for a world
That we will never fully experience
In the hopes our successors will enjoy the fruits of our labor
But inevitably enjoy the same propaganda pamphlets that their parents once read
And slave for a world, that their successors might enjoy
All the while, the reapers scythe sharpens.

Proudly he handles the bottle, bellowing about her as if she were a person

She's not fine wine, she's aged wine.
kept in the dark; alone with her thoughts
low in the earth; like a corpse
and given all the time in the world to ferment; she's rotting

Her glass is smooth you see, and cool to the touch; like the pavement on which she fell
The curves are unique to every bottle; her carcass so pretty
And the deepest green you'll ever see on a bottle; like her eyes

I have preserved her so! To keep her how she should be!
that's how he wanted to see me

She has aged well, for almost 20 years you see.
still as young as ever

But this is a special occasion; they found me
Go fetch some glasses; I can hear them digging
And we'll celebrate her.