Death just moved an inch closer

A friend has died
It makes me feel very fragile
And death moves an inch closer to me
Like he is an ogre at the end of the bed
Agile when he crawls, Draped in a shawl of black
So that he looked good
I imagined his sick imagination asking
Do I look fat in this?
I asked him to show his face
But he never noticed me speak
Such is his intent to first seek out the weak
And then worm his way to me.
The reaper with a personality
Focused
A bullet with my name engraved
On a gift I don’t want
Russian roulette at a casino table
I should modify my lifestyle, eat healthy
Lose weight
But how when the world is on our shoulders
Its only a child that ignores the warning
That slowly smoulders
And an adult that realises
Mother earth can only hold us so long
Until she unleashes
The reaper with vanity.
I shall kick him off, stem the tide
Set the dogs to him, but he owns them too
The sickel swinging grim and hollow
Every day an inch closer
Every drink knocked back and swallowed
Every cigarette
Every late night
I am vulnerable
I am not superhuman
We are fragile
And waiting
Every day is a victory to be enjoyed
We are given life on loan
But ultimately owned by him.