Insanity of Death
brooding over the epithet of my grave,
trapped as the maker's slave.
n'sync to my own insanity,
destined to be six feet under.
a vice grip of the reality of my life,
staying away from the the end of the tunnel's light.
contemplating the beginning and the end;
a one way trip,
with no going back,
not knowing when it's going to come,
nor the set time of date.
like my serious grave of epitome:
the gravity of ashes and dust on my tomb,
severity of darkness of what we don't already know,
that in which we must overcome.
a fear of the undertow,
crucial to the aftermath of the afterlife.
as your ember of fire dies;
hoping that it's quick and painless,
cause you don't know whether you're going to heaven or hell!
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.
