Grip the side of the bed in fear
Swelling in the air, a curse run amok
Seeing faces turn gray the seer
Fingers turn white a stare at the clock

How can I go when I’m not ready?
The plaintive cries the hallways fill
See my hands shake, my legs unsteady
Jump out of the window or swallow a pill

Where will those with class go to mend?
Among the pittance of which they dwell
Without a small sheet to wipe their a$$es
Will they su€k and gasp to the pits of hell?

Where is the mercy that thou dost seek?
Not as gentle the mist that has released
Shall it be boisterous or commonly meek?
What shall your soul do if called deceased