speaking to my latest, dying poem

you are going to die/ it might be a painful, slow death, or just a sudden, swift one/ anyways the main thing is that one way or another/ you are going to die/ and then they will cut you up/ (they love doing that)/ and they will try their best to preserve you/ for a couple of days/ so that the ones you love/ will be able to come visit/ and cry/ and kiss you for the last time/ and you will lay there/ petrified/ with a stupid/ disfigured look/ and you will lay there/ forever/ because time as you know it/ has stopped