Died, dead, DEATH, my dear!
What is this ‘passed away’ we hear?
Mere words,
as if taking but an hour away;
not eternally gone–
just on to live some elsewhere day?
I know how you feel.
Your body’s given out;
maybe stuck in a wheelchair–
lots of non compos mentises about
with the poor young wage slaves:
we know how that went–
labor’s children of immigrants
serving aged bodies’ bent.