Constantly afraid of death, He breathed his last breath. Unfortunately life wasn't the meth, For his fate that was worse than death.
Love or sympathy he never felt even if it cost him his health . Not ever did he want to lose his wealth, His death neared with stealth it was too late when he smelt!
Lying with firewood beneath, with burning sheath, In the air curled his smoke wreath. All possession he bequeath.
His dreams were trodden He was soon forgotten He wouldn’t have fallen If his heart he could soften And his thoughts he could broaden.