"Passion's Wrath"

Death is such a trivial thing
Of which the poet speaks, or a muse will sing.
What is the purpose of describing life disappeared,
And adding to the confusion of hallowed spirits feared?
Live life to its brim, until it spills to the ground,
And allow your soul to fly unbound
Through the atmospheric glove that has entrapped the world.
But, if you plummet into the darkness that evil hurled
To your home and your lifestyle,
Then you will be lost. You would continue onward to that horrid pile
Of forgotten deeds of evil men, located down every mile
Of every town,
Of every house in existence.
And you too will be forgotten in the eyes
Of the young children, so full of dreams,
That even the most treacherous screams
Of hatred cannot stand.
But, it�s not the same when you�re dying in the name
Of the one you love. You will feel no pain,
But the pain of hope rising through your toes
Up to the sky and straight towards the moon
As you fall to Passion�s Wrath.