Death

It stalks you in the night
You wake up, sweaty with fright
You could get slashed with a kinife
If so, you'd have no more life

Maybe a gun, maybe a crash
You could end up nothing more than ash
You could slip up and plunder
then end, six feet under

It happens every day, out in the street
In a different way. You can't run
you can't escape, its stalking you
Sometimes you get a rush

Sometimes you get a tear
We're all afraid, there is everything to fear
Death is in the wind
It's in your mind, one wrong step

You might end up in the grave
It may be a person or a creature
Listen up, as I ain't no preacher
Copyright © | Year Posted 2018

Poem

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