Poem -

Dead Debt

Dead Debt

Old man of means
knows his time is waning

Believes his piles of money
can buy his wrinkly ass more time

How much cash it may take
is anybody's guess

Sets up a Grim Reaper meeting
to cut a deal with Death

For three days and three nights
the conference drags on

All to no avail

Negotiations fail

No extensions granted

for the dead man

whose credit has expired 

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