Impending Death

The pigs in the sty,

Poor creatures,

They stare at me with vacant eyes

There is no pain, no fear of death in them

And no prayer for mercy that I can hear,

Resigned to their fate they seem to be

Unaware of death, these souls are.

I know, one day, I have to die

But the thought of death troubles me,

When would I die I need to know,

Of what kind of death I do not know,

Would it be sudden, would it be smooth

Or would it be after thick, painful bouts

I can only dare a guess.