Death is as pale as a vampire's flesh,
and it sounds like a heart slowly beating,
nearing expiration.
It has the flavor of dry bread.
It smells like a hospital, full of illness and grief,
and it looks like a bare prison wall.
Death makes me feel cold.

Death is as black as the devil's soul.
It sounds like the lid of a coffin slamming shut.
It tastes like poison, swallowed one minute
and effective the next.
It smells like a thousand rotting corpses
and it looks like the omnipresent Reaper, silently waiting
to harvest our souls.
Death makes me feel anxious.

Death is gray like an old man's beard.
It is the chorus of monotonous voices
reciting the Lord's Prayer at a funeral.
Death tastes like water, pale and cool,
and it smells like an odorless gas.
It is a lonely mass of tombstones in a graveyard.
Death makes me feel numb.