Analysis of DEATH

Something
Wicked this way comes
Draped in crushed black velvet
It raps at the door
Inviting itself in-
Makes itself at home
Wondering, looking
In every corner
Lays on the bed
And covers itself up
Like a puff of smoke
It waits
Waiting
Cold icy fingers stretched
Black hollow glossy eyes like caviar
A black hole
Stares
Tongue, strained against white teeth like a snake in a jar
Lashes out