Death has become my companion.
He swings his scythe through the thoughts of my mind,
To create a crystal clear canyon.
He never shows his face,
He never lets it be known,
That his deep dark shadow across my conscious, so has grown.
He comforts me to soothe with easy talk of death,
Each word sows confusion into my mortal bind,
Which fervently fights for every last breath.
Don't misunderstand, I love life greatly.
And though his cloak is thick and broad
Its layer doesn't warm me.
It gives me realization, that all herein must perish,
And serves my heart to understand,
This short life we must cherish.
So talk to me death.
And walk with me death.
You may stay with me death.
Until my final breaths left.
YOU ARE READING
Bloody Words
PoésiePoems for the twisted souls who dance at night. The cauldron stirrers, aorta slurpers down right damned to hell life usurpers. We all have a dark side, I invite you to enjoy yours. For the broken and the damned walk amongst us every day.
