Dying Young

Life is fickle, or so it seems.
Life is long, only in dreams.

The good, they die young.
The bad are left to carry on.

No prayer has ever closed death's door.
When death comes knocking once more.

Who will be remembered,
and who will not?

The good and bad together,
That’s all we’ve got.

Do you want to be forgotten,
after you are gone?

Or do you want to linger,
long after the finger of death,

Is placed on your chest?
labeled, like all the rest.

After thinking about it a while,
will you have the guile?

To put on your ghastly hood,
and write really, really good.

So, like Edgar Allan Poe,
when you write and early go,

You will be remembered.



Blank Gravestone

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Copyright 2009 © Ronald W. Hull

10/11/09