Get Your Premium Membership

My Number

Never have i ever seen a day with Much more gloom If I gave a damn i would say that I am a perfect imperfection anyone Could know. born of unpleasant Circumstances Growing up i liked to chase birds From my fire escape when we Lived in the city when I grew old I Shamed to etch the momentary Themes in life. All of the mile Stones passed me by. As I passed one hundred years I Knew death by name. The grim Repear some would whisper Caring not for their day. I Maneuvered all precautions not To let him in, my friend. he was cunning. he was the one that didn't let me out of My flower filled casket. It was Then that I took my final bow. My Number was up. The grim Repear was there searching For the next victim of their final Fate. Can't escape death he Sneered as he leered when they Carefully lowered me entombed Be at peace one said. Live Cautiously for death rules this Catastrophic plateau droned the Wisdom of the preacher

Copyright © | Year Posted 2023




Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.

Please Login to post a comment

A comment has not been posted for this poem. Encourage a poet by being the first to comment.