Death
The blood stained hands
After he ran his fingers through the hairs
His head is now leaking his secret
Death is finally taking up its shape
“All that pain has nowhere to stay
The time is running out
It’s time to bid farewell”
Death said to him as he looked into the mirror
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
