So harsh and cruel this life can be.
To rip a leaf from the tree.
Tear it from its resting place to play with,
Discard, without a trace.

It sat quietly, breathing, still.
Unaware that death was there, surrounding him with his morbid snare.

Is it worse to know it's there? To feel its icy sinister stare?
Or worse to have it creep behind, grab you swiftly and end your time.