In departure the disbelieving soul struggles
To defy the beckoning of the death angel
When its summoned outta its cradle
At the end of its mandate
In a hell sourced clothe its bundled
Dragged through the seven heavens
Foul and smelly its woefully handled
To the majesty's throne its presented
Its register piled with the misfortuned
Then descended into the buried body
By a winged pair, there, its questioned
And to a glimpse of hell , its exposed
©servant
S