The scent of death is a curious thing
Sometimes it is upon one long before ones final hours
Yet other times it doesn't appear until long after ones last breath

But when it appears, there is no mistaking it
Despite its similarities with longing and forgetting
It has a subtle distinction all its own

It comes in the dark of the night like a thief
Stealing ones innocence and erasing any signs of hope
Leaving behind a skeleton adorned with empty optimism

Maybe if we pretend we can't smell it, it will pass us over
Leaving us prey to it's scarier half, called life
Whose smell is faint yet highly sought after

So douse me with dreams and kerosene
To trick the ghosts of the darknes
Because life and death are not what they seem as they see who can pull me farthest.