He smiles,
You cry.

He chuckles,
You’ll die.

Black cloak fluttering,
He chases,
And you run.

But try,
As you might

No escape exists
Under the sun

Even as the Caesar,
He’s the grim reaper,
You’re his captive.

But try,
As you might

To run.
To escape.

Only to realize
In the end
That it was
All in vain

For everyone
Must one day
Face the shadows
Of a setting sun

Et tu,
Caesar,
Are no exception
On the Ides of March.