Meeting Death
By Treas
The rains seeping through the cracks Of our home, our broken down shack The cold winter breeze chills my breath The feeling, the feeling of death As I exhale, I let out a cry A cry heard only by the human eye Not visual, it entertains The rich, the poor, the hungry, and the insane As I creep to the bed For it's cold I said A see shadowy hauntings outside Crawling around on mystical rides I pull the covers over my head Acutally wishing that I was dead Remember, sometimes you get what you ask for Well, right then, there was a knock on my door "Whos there?" . .no reply So scared, shaking, I let out a sigh I cracked open the door Death stood in front of me Presence only, silence I cant see I felt my breath taken away Falling to the foor, as I lay Seachring for breath, I can't seem to find Suffocating, it's all in my mind Or at least I thought But it seems death always wins And I've already faught. Written February 12th, 2002 © on Feb 11 2002 10:58 PM PST 10 • 0
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"The rains seeping through the cracks..."