Death

Death, do I float through the ceiling?
Do I sink through the floor?
Do I enter blackness?
Am I consumed by white?
I am so terrified of all the answers
but don’t you know secrets are bad for your health,
I guess as Death you don’t worry about that.
Well, can Death die?

Death, what about the soul?
And does the heart really live on?
There’s got to be a grain of truth
for the thought to have been born at all,
Everything but our spirit seems to regenerate,
The cells all divide and die and grow again,
Is the fact our heads stay the same
worth a slice of faith?

Death, I beg you do a Jesus experiment on me,
Let me die for just three days,
I swear I will keep all of your secrets,
I’ll even keep you company if it’s not too horrid,
Death, I beg you do a Jesus on me,
Let me die for just three days,
I swear I’m good at keeping secrets,
I’ll even stay with you if it’s not too scary.

Death, please address me the answers before my time,
Death, I know you know when that is, so
Death, have mercy and please address me the answers,
So I can have some kind of quality of life.