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Death Becomes Thee
As the final notes of the chord doth fade,
You brought me to this sacred glade,
Where the ghosts doth haunt at night,
The Collector of Souls' origin of fright.
As blood dripped silently to the ground,
I tried to scream, but came not a sound.
I watched you as my vision dimmed,
The next hard journey to begin.
The heavy silver scythe did swing,
As in my memory, angels sing.
It's over, but just started,
As from your lips these words last departed.
The colors once bright and full of light,
Assume the dullness of the dreary night.
Pages whether drab or crisp,
Have no meaning, time flies in a wisp.
Bring this story to an end,
Burdened messengers doth descend.
But do not let this be a surprise,
You were born. . .waiting to die.
Our mortal nature is sure fate,
No amount of advoidance can clean this slate.
It's over, but just started,
As from your lips these words last departed.
Mind from body separated,
What's left behind, dilapidated.
Thy sould patiently ascending to light,
Can no one save thee from thy plight?
None knows what awaits thee in thy destination,
Maybe hell, possible damnnation?
Is the wool finally free of your eyes?
Do you now see what made you blind?
Whether or not thy path is secure,
For Death. . .there is no cure.
It's over, but just started,
As from your lips these words last departed.
<wrote this for an english project>
 Sighren · Mon Jul 03, 2006 @ 05:17am · 0 Comments |
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