Sense Sonnet - Chiller

Die Day

Uncle Sam, you're getting too old,
And you've made promises galore,
That, true, were once as good as gold,
But now mouths wag that you are poor.
Uncle Sam, you need to just put
Out all that older family,
Nieces and nephews underfoot,
Should call it quits at 63.
At that age a computer chip
Inserted inside each one's skin
Would trigger a terminal trip
To a heaven or hell check in.

Everyone's got to sacrifice.
Age 63 is the right price.