How do the gnawing claws of Death ache less than the resultant onslaught of loneliness?

Mannequins move when people do not.
The untrodden land a lingering invitation
To which a response is owed yet seldom delivered.  
Edifices of grandeur loom with open arms.

Mannequins move when people do not.
Hills green with envy and
A thousand eyes which blankly stare
At what dares traverse a land bereft.

Mannequins move when people do not.
Voices cry out in an unfamiliar tongue
With an intertwinement of shrieks
And woeful sobs that reverberate far beyond.

Mannequins move when people do not.
Vacant cradles still rock
Back and forth as they once did
Long ago when whines were heard.

Mannequins move when people do not.
A longing to return to what once was
Before the shrapnel had rained
And they marched, unashamed.

Mannequins move when people do not.
Poppies of red made all the redder,
And slanted signatures upon scarlet letters.
Yet, a lone gaze accompanied a fragile thought,
With sorrowfully spoken syllables
And pursed lips, almost hypocritical
In their aimless deed to redefine sympathy.

Mannequins move when people do not.
For what else does when people do not.
Mannequins move in tactless ways,
Not knowing of transgressions of past days.
Mannequins move when people are nought.
Land demands a usual offering,
One of which silence is futile.

The only days Death has ever drawn close to me were when he left his shadow grazing over this frail body.
Sleep deprived, feverish, weak heck of a boy.
A soul so agonised over the war within, a mind so twisted and perverse. A heart, that still beats however crooked.
A body, weak; a human, depraved.

I remember those days.
Sickness pays his visits over the seasons.
Fevers, influenza, intense food poisoning, coughs so bad I end up praying "Lord, have mercy" each time.

Yet, I see others like me
Suffer disease like they've gone through hell
Got into accidents that'll take them a while or never to get back from.
See the news and see people close to me been closer to Death than I've had before.

I laid back and watched the sky as the clouds flew by
It just hit me that
one day, it'll be me.

God help me, I'm no different.
I'm barely even a saint
Just as evil as everyone else
To think that in my youth, I'm some sort of a god
an invincible immortal that could ascend the heights and become the greatest of them all.

But then I look at the sky, and wonder
"What is man, that You think of him? And the son of man, that You visit him?"
I am reduced to nothing, my passions, dreams and ambitions are all but folly-- vanity of vanities like chasing the wind.

I am losing my edge. I no longer write these poems the way I used to. I take longer to write essays. It gets more difficult to stay faithful in the faith that I have. The "amazing" parts of me are fading, bleeding, dying. It gets just as difficult socialising when you are not the extrovert you used to be.

Death has already been part of the default nature I so have, though I do not yet taste it.

Still I crave for Life, clinging on to Hope.
Still I live, for Love's good name's sake.
Still I live and wage war against Death, aspiring to be a vessel to preach the Good News of Eternal Life.  

Indeed I am unworthy, day by day I am undone.
Yet even more so, though I may die
For now, I shall live.

"Oh! 'Tis great grief,
Wrought by fate's mischief;
To pledge my love by some vow,
Even when Cupid hasn't strung his arrow into his bow."

your lungs inhale war
against the foundations of your ribs;
bursting bones heard from within.

lamentation conquers
with its sharp-edged desolation
leaving fragmented skin throughout

friction between you
and the false reflection
echo consequences.

you were a misled mistake
tricked of glory & feared by contentment.
you are whole and apart
and everything in-between.

Lost, alone and terrified
In solitude I forever will confide
Maybe I will just end it with suicide
Everything will be better if I just died

All those voices in my head
All the tears I may have shed
I’ve got fear and anxiety, disgust and dread
I sank in darkness while I lay in bed

I just can’t take it anymore
This uneasy feeling, I never can ignore
Go back to the corner with pain and sore
Enticing myself with blood and gore

My soul corrupted, my faith all gone
It’s too late to save me, I am done

On
a ledge
with nothing there
to grasp - on edge.
The height has me scared
all alone on this wall.
Can’t find the person I am
not ready to let go and fall
into the deep black below this dam
I’m not connected to future or past.

But it’s not a time for lamentation
it is time to glide to climb boldly
for clear clean air of creation
reach beyond like you told me.
What am I hiding behind
looking all around?
My mind’s not mine
up or down
stuck to
You.

This is not a time for lamentation
it is time to glide to climb boldly
for clean clear air of creation
reach inside like you told me
find what you’re hiding behind
jump up and jump down
is my mind mine
verb or noun
stuck to
you...

Finding the cold warm
I snuggle deep into the snow
The flakes of which lie and grow
With each passing moment the momentum grows
My lamentation grows and my heart
The one as cold as ice shows
Though not from within me
From everywhere for each flake of snow is where my heart resembles its cold white glow