A product of the geriatric platoon? Hardly. A morbid vein to scare the squeamish? Not in the mood. A reflection of that last stop station which we traveled to with our only one way life ticket? Why not?
Those that fear death haven't enjoyed life to the hilt, they have only existed.

I heard a knock on my door...
and I said, "who's there?"
getting a little pause,
an hiccup of silence,
until a "you know who"
was heard
from the reaper,
it wasn't impatient,
just the tired voice
of He That Harvest.

"Go away, I am not ready,"
I said, "come back another time,
come back another day,
because I wasn't expecting you
and I am not prepared."
Another little pause and
"Once a king," he said,
"wanted to swap his kingdom
for a horse to get away..."

I opened the door and
as Death saw my face,
I could see
its sudden fear,
"Not you!!!...Oh not you!!!"
the man with the scythe said,
and turning around he ran
screaming for a horse
to get away.