Death
It came when I was asleep, Deep within a nightmare. Steal my soul to keep, It tries to feed off of my fear. Only to find that I have none, And that I will stand strong. I refuse to run, If It thinks I will loose It is dead wrong. I will be the first to defeat It, I will not lay down and die. I will never give in to His might, I will fight and do more then just try. As my nightmare grows dark, I feel Its cold hands reach for my heart. I hear the sound of my burning flesh as It tries to leave Its mark, At first the pain is so great I feel as if I'm being torn apart. I feel my anger begin to rise, I grab His dead hands and tear them from my chest. Then for the first time the world hears His pained cries, He begs me to show Him mercy so I let Him go at his behest. And that is when I made my attack, When I'm done He will be banished. So now a mortal has sent Him back, Now Death has vanished.If you are going to say that this poem is in anyway less then good because it is about death or beating death don't leave a comment other then that have a free for all and tell me what you think. Written August 28th, 2001 © on Aug 28 2001 06:55 AM PST, Francis Figueroa 0 • 10
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"It came when I was asleep,..."