As I lay dying,
My heart is weak,
Weak as it can be.
I see my blood,
All around me.
My life is ending,
One minute at a time.
I hear a distant voice saying,
'Its going to be fine.'
As I grow cold,
The meaning of Life begins to unfold.
As I start to take my last breath,
A bright light is all I see.
And I heard a man say,
'The time of death is half past three.'
As the angels carry me,
I know there's no going back.
I'll see you all there.
My world is now dead and black.
Osvaldo Govea
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-death-13/
