Sense Sonnet - Pumper

 Fear of Death, be not Proud

I'm told soon I'll meet you at last.

I am not proud that you I've feared

All of the time my life has passed,

But less so as our meeting neared.

All those you have met before

Have never come back to tell of

Whether they feared you anymore,

If over fear they rose above.

It is the fear of you that I'm

Realizing was my real foe,

Causing me lots of wasted time,

But something you already know.

And now as I take my last breath,

I feel my fear of you die, death.