Death is the line between shadow and light,
The flicker of a candle flame ready to go out.
Death is the sweet sick sensation, going upstairs,
When you get to the last step but the last step's not there.

Yes, here too
Is the ugliness of human decay.
The stench, the rot, the cold moist face,
Eyes dull and vacant, limbs stiff and grey--
Making of your beloved a twisted mockery.

But I think death is mostly

Just early morning dew
Cold and glistening on red roses,
The summer rain
That comes to join your tears.

Dark, sharp pain
Throbs as you see
Silver stained scarlet,
Open neck and broken wing.

But death is
The big, bright eyes of an infant
Who knows more than he should.
Prayers drifting
Like stars lost in the wind.
Sad, shimmering lullabies
Ringing on,
Tangled in echoes
Of swansong.
blusongbird blusongbird
18-21, F
4 Responses Jan 14, 2012

Well, thank you again! :P I have a couple other poems on this site, if you liked that one.

For someone your age, this is pretty amazing work! I love the first stanza, and the change in tone after "But I think death is mostly" is pure genius. You need to get on AllPoetry and start taking your gift of self ex<x>pression and creativity seriously. Seriously.

I'm glad you enjoyed it.

Death is the sweet sick sensation, going upstairs,<br />
Death is<br />
The big, bright eyes of an infant<br />
Who knows more than he should.<br />
<br />
just beautiful thank u for sharing