Battered By Death

I see a man battered by death,

Slumping on a grey sofa,

With head bowed to defeat,

His eyes cries his loss.

Death took away his wife first,

Perhaps, the person he most need forgiving from,

His cries for her were shouts,

For he knew how much he had wronged her.

Death then took his parents away,

One, then the other, after bouts of illness,

He was the first for them, the one who lived together through hardness 

He cries mostly in sobs for Mak and Pak

Death knows no rest,

It came for a sister he dots,

Further wrenching his already wounded heart,

He cried still albeit brief this time.

I wish death would spare him more loss,

For he is at the age where death could pay him a personal visit,

Alas, death continues to hit him where it hurts

Slashing him more severely, mercilessly.

Death took away half his soul,

A brother who had been with him in every struggle,

A best of friend who knew him inside and out,

A voice who soothes, reasons, and sometimes reprimand his temperament.

I see a man battered by death

Pitiful,

Sad,

Oh how cruel death handled him.