*Grave is better*

They told me that you'll die some day,

A day of April, March or May,
Your last day in this world it would be,
When the cost of air would be absolutely free.

The day you will say goodbye to the sun,

Have the last cup of tea with a fluffy bun.
The night when you'll gaze at the stars and moon,
And tell them that you'll be with them soon.

Those who tell me this are brave,

Yet, when they utter a word called grave;
I wonder why these brave hearts fail,
Some get twitchy while others turn pale.

A place where you'll reach on four, not two;

Mourning families will say adieu.
The reason of grief is still obscure,
Is that world scarier than ours?

The grave is lonely, dark and deep,

A cosy room for you to sleep.
No humans are around to give you pain,
To break your heart and eat your brain.

No one comes and holds your hand,

To make a few promises as firm as sand.
No one comes to stand by your side,
To make you comfortable and instil you with pride.

Then how can grave be a blood-curdling spot?

When from a scarier place you've been brought.
The humans of this world are the scorpions of your
grave,
Better is to live with vemins than to live with
knaves.

From here you borrow nothing but woe,

Pain you reap for the love you sow;
Still you remain a lifetime debtor,
Now shouldn't I say that grave is better?

~SARA ABBAS