A Tenebrific Fate

Her final days, a mercilessly cold, never-ending night
      Her eyes have grown so weary, always averting from the light
          That used to burst within her. It has grown tragically dull
    The bloomed flowers of her life is wilting as death comes to call
   A terminally ill woman accepts her fate; embracing the dark
     She's crossing the rubicon of doom; a journey so cold and stark

   She lies dying, deeply submerged in depression's murky ocean
Scythe-wielding Grim Reaper lurks about as she lies devoid of motion
      Her eyes sadder than a lonely moon, they bare no iota of spark
   Moribund; her spirits, somber. Her sunny days; now charcoal dark
 She hears the death-knell; a crow, outside, cawing of morbid dread
  Her hopes and dreams have drowned in a well, soon she'll be dead




''T'' Contest, New or Old Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Submission date: 11/07/2021
Word chosen: Tenebrific
Date originally written: 01/01/2019

darkdeathdeepfatewomanrhyme

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