Hold Your Breath As We Bring On Death!

The cat was thinking the other day what if he up and croaked at his bay, then the posts would continue to go and no replies would show. Maybe a death post set a year in the future should be written. Then at least one day all would know why the cat was no longer smitten.

Then that brought on this,
Little bit of non bliss.
Might lose your breath,
With good old death.

Seems to be a dirty word,
One that people flips the bird.
Like it will get them shot,
Or make them fry in a pot.

That would be a bad way to go,
Stew for a witch at her show.
Or attacked by a killer crow.
Could happen, you never know.

A billion ways to croak.
Let that little tidbit soak.
Odds are it won't occur,
But you could even choke on fur.

Death by hairball.
That would get a cat call.
Maybe you should learn to cough them up,
It can even be done by a pup.

But then we already went down that road,
Heck, you could die on the commode.
Why is it people run in fear?
Is it in their genes when the word they hear?

Gonna happen one day.
Of course if you see danger run the hell the other way.
But just a word, oh no.
Under the bed you have to go.

Waste your time fearing death,
And you waste another breath.
One by one they add together,
And you can no longer enjoy the weather.

Unless you like the view of ground,
Or being burnt and flying around.
Then you wasted time for what you like,
So I guess you got a strike.

It will come when it comes,
So one can run and flap their gums,
Or just live the best they can until poof,
You get crushed by a faulty roof.

Think a death post is a good idea at my sea? Set it 50 years ahead with glee. Fear the word do you? Pfft is all I can say at my zoo. No time to worry about such a pass. It will come when it comes to my little rhyming ass.

Later all, have a nice fall.