Death Cheats Me

In which I realize that I have underestimated the sardonic wit and cruel cleverness of Death.

Death is a b*****d.

Filthy, slimy thing! Coward!

Traitor!

"Perhaps another day," he murmured quietly.

Perhaps another day.

But when his scythe

Curled around my daughter's throat,

And when her empty voice

Filled my ears--

"Damn you!" I wail, "I cannot wait any longer!"

--Only his void echo replied,

"Perhaps another day."