I lied to Death, while under the tree. He came to me, and spoke to me.
"It's your time. Get up. Let's go."
"No no. That can't be right. I still have work to do."
"Sorry. I'll come back later."
I lied to Death, while at my office. He came up to me, and spoke yet again.
"It's your time. Get up. We have to go."
"No no. That can't possibly be right. I just had an argument. Surely you can't except me to die with this hate festering."
"I see your point. I'll leave. But next time, mark my words, we'll be on our way."
I lied to Death, while in my bed. He came up to me, and spoke for a third time.
"Wake up. We have to leave. I have a job. And it's your time."
I rubbed my eyes as I stared at him.
"Surely, that can't be right. I just dreampt that I lived long and strong. I haven't lived either of those yet."
"Alright. But next time, you'll suffer if you elude me."
A forth time, I lied to death. I was alone, driving home.
"It's your time. We're going now."
"Ah, but if I die while driving, others could get hurt."
A first, Death said nothing. When he did, I wished I hadn't lied.
"I hoped you're prepared, to say good-bye. He'll be gone, when you get home."
"No no. You can't be right! It's my time!"
"No, it's not. If you died while driving, others would hurt."
When I got home, there he was.
Life was drained,
eyes gone blank.
All because...
...I lied to Death.
Wow, I thought up something morbid. I like it. Does anyone else like my poem?