Often times the pain stings,
Left part of the arm it clings.
In the middle sternum lingers,
Valve of aorta seems calcified.
Infusing blood quite irregular,
As life flows in intermittent.

Many times breath is shallow,
Or becomes rapidly gasping.
Risk is enclosing to the end,
As though death is certain.
Groping into myriad veins,
And whispers sad lullaby.
Birth itself a mark of death,
Reasons cannot even defy.
A reality that is destined...
That life has finite end,
On earth for all of us!