Nothing stays fresh and ever green
Even the grass, withers and falls
Until we all eventually fade
We all shall taste of that life brings

The good, the bad, the sour, the sweet
Today nascent, tomorrow grey
Yes, at some point, we crave for rest
Life is but, cradle to the grave.

Where troubled minds will fall asleep
Well, I do not know, about you
But, if I can speak when I ghost
I will tell death, thanks for the rest.

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Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu