Tale of a Dead Poet

Alas, I am here
noone else only me
the darkness around
I only see
My final moments
flash before
as I again
walk through that door
The Man stands
around the bend
patiently waits
my coming end
I yell to myself
but I do not hear
I walk on by
with pen in ear
thinking a ditty
of a man in strife
unaware of The Man
wielding that knife
at a good thought
I take pen in hand
The Man behind
to turn did command
the rest is clear
but yet
the question remains
you know I bet
the mightier one
the sword or the pen
one's work is dead
the other's lives again