Poetry: If Death Is Dead

If death is dead
There would be no more pain and threats
With the reflection of snow in our hair
We'd be like the angels
Disease and accident will no more thrive
They will mellow and deep as the psalm

If death is dead
Earth will be an isle of paradise
It will glitter and fair like a  gem
No more pain and cry will be heard
We'll worship our forefathers on their bed
The land will be free from hole occupied by stinking flesh

If death is dead
There will be no end
There will be no hell
Heaven and hell will be competing here
we will subdue with half care
This our garden earth
Will be full of walking dead

If death is dead
we'll labor and leaked our golden sweat
The hope of rest would be a psalm
We'll be as old as the earth itself
There will be no enough space for us to dwell
Slavery and competition would be walking on the street with their bells, calling all to themselves

Death is not dead
Its melancholic drum will still be heard
It will fill our eyes with river of tears
Striking the son, leaving his mother naked
Giving us the pain of wishing our friends farewell
Then, we'll pray and wish death for death
Sadly, death won't kill itself but spare us the hope of the new earth

O' death
I know I'm your food on earth
But  I have my hope in my heart
The hope of leaving slavery and corrupted earth here
For when I die
You'll know more thrive
But patiently wait for your death in the afterlife

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