without a sound

Death will come like a sweet white rose
or a gift with wrappings that will slowly enclose me and ribbons to strangle and bows
Death will come with thorns to pierce my black heart
take a peek before flames enfold me and I depart
I have always equated annihilation with crashing through dead walls and wanting to stay
But death will come while I still waiting am hating the silence
and fate will take me calmly away without a sound without anybody around.