-This poem didn't really come out how I wanted, I think I could have done better-

Your silence seems smug
Expectation for the end
Seems to bring you far away
You refuse to even beg
See forth to expect the unexpected
Be ready at all times
Death is simply a game
Played well, until the end.
Your eyes glimmer slightly
Hope still arises but shaking your head furiously
It dies. You no longer care.
Buissness is buissness to you.
As it has been, and always will.
Nothing can come un-planned.
There's always a way.
You don't know though.
Because exceptions are always there.
Rule breaking, lies, twists, and loop holes.
You cannot find the answer.
I shall not give the question
For death is unexpected.
Rather to be left, untouched.