Decay

I cannot bear myself to say
That in every minute, every day,
I slowly decay as each second passes,
Like the birds, the trees, the greenest grasses.
Ashes to ashes and dust to dust,
These are the words that I can trust.
In the hollow rattle of death's last note,
It's not democratic, not down to vote.
It's indiscriminate, this death,
Whoever, whatever, it takes your breath,
Even if you catch the ledges as you fall,
Death is the winner that takes it all.