The whispering voices, too careful they may -
Unveil a secret in the numbers they say,
1, 3, 19, 21, 40 and nil,
(The voices then hold their breathes and remain still.)
In my death I saw a dream,
Of a thousand - ten thousand screams,
I hear jokes, joy, happiness and laughter,
And fear, tears, death -- and silence thereafter.
Death stared right into my face,
And, with a tone full of disgrace,
She laughed, she said - "Do you really think,
that I believe you're not afraid of me?"
"How could she possibly see through me?", I scoffed,
"Does my cloak not hide my inner self enough?"
"It's not for you to decide, You are but an animal reigned to ride,"
"It's no use disregarding me, my love. You are but a man inside"
Then she turned, and with a grin, she leapt with a hiss,
Held me by my chin and on my lips - she planted a kiss,
"Oh, you poor child, look at your eyes - are those tears?"
She laughed - she laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed,
All I felt was fear.
Death is a friend of mine.
The whispering voices still echo within my mind,
They lie all the same - they lie and they remind -
Me of what I am - a foolish, mediocre soul,
Doomed to vanish into null none different than them all.
