Death
Death
I saw him, the spectre, watching, stealing my life.
His dark mouth and toothless grin, hid from all light,
while all near, withered at its feet.
And when he pointed his rasping, barbed finger at me
in the half-light; I felt its pull; its sting, its ghostly glue,
leading me to him.
Pull away? How?
When death comes your way; the journey’s just begun.
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