Death’s Overcoat

The infinite black of Death’s overcoat
Is not stitched with fear
As it first would appear
The pockets may be deep
But do not fill them with regret
He placed his jacket
On the back of your chair
On the day you were born
To stake his claim
So don’t think it’s unfair
When he comes to collect
What was his all along
And when it is all done and said
You can only be dead
Just once
But you live
Every day
Of your life

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