Death

Death is
 

being eaten,
consumed without rejuvenation
 

There is a giving that gives back
Death is not that
It is the decay that rots you from within
It leaves your face frozen like botox
while your heart is stolen by a cold black fire
 

Death says, "You still look beautiful
Keep patching up that mask."
Death won't let you slow down,
demands you go more fast

There is a serving that serves in return
Death is not that too
It only gives you the nothing
you don't deserve
Its kisses are empty promises
for work you didn't do

Death leaves behind
a letter on your grave:

"Thanks for playing,
I hope you like
the shame...
the grief...
the regrets...
the emptiness
and less."
 

That is what you get,
when you dance with Death.