He took a step towards me,
Arms outstretched, almost lovingly.
He smelled like the forest,
And it was soothing, almost putting me to rest.
His dark clothes decorated his skeletal frame,
Arms thin enough they looked like they could maim.
He watched me as I laid awake,
I held my breath, afraid of any noise I'd make.
He comes at night,
And though I try with all my might,
I know he is right.
He comes at night, to take my soul away.
He comes to make sure, I never runaway.
He is the dark,
haunting my dreams every night.
He is Death,
and I've already escaped him once.
YOU ARE READING
A Toast, to Us
PoetryThis, is a toast to us. For all of us who have been beaten into the ground, and refused to stay down. We are powerful. ---------------------------- Poems for those who have suffered for far too long.
