Whoever said that Death
could only wear black,
never saw the colourful ways
people could die.
Never saw frozen river blue
across human limbs
that shake with each breath.
Never saw dancing fire sunset
from burns cooking flesh.
Never saw pooling blood ink
covering a knife like a sheath,
from bone cuts.
But Death could only wear
mocking oil black.
YOU ARE READING
Dear: Hell
PoésieThe elevator broke now death played with you all night. - Hell's Deal ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Sometimes monsters are real, sometimes Hell is fictional, but both have impacted many lives. So, take seat with some coffee and enjoy this poetry collection.
