Death Poem by M. A Heathcote

Death, I'm guessing, for the most part,
It will be like the first time
You entered the 'Ghost House' without parents
At the funfair, only to then realise
- We've been tricked, short-changed,
Chewed up like morsels in the jaws of Azathoth,
And that we have seen and done all this before.

Death is the greatest of all unknown adventures.
Left to us, isn't that why people run scared?
As they enter the Pennywise Funhouse,
Wall of mirrors shouting Who's afraid
Of the big, bad wolf.
Meeting a flesh-eating clown first-hand,
Death will be grinning in that alien trailer park
When your heart finally stops beating
Like a traction engine. When your soul,
Your spirit is no longer ectoplasm candyfloss.

Stuck to the side of your gums,
You will scream and learn, Death
wasn't the star attraction
That you had already played every part,
Every scene in a horror movie
You and you alone directed.