Remembrance of My Death
Around, all around,
the mourners gather.
My dread grows as
the angry hand of
heaven,
Falls against my
naked soul. It
smites me,
And darkly my
essence drips to the
wicked earth that is
my prison.
In a strange and
terrible glee,
I beg forgiveness
while the reaper
takes my unwilling
hand,
Now alone, my
cascade of tears
falls upon uncaring
eyes.
This is my hell,
Copyright © Daquan Bowrin | Year Posted 2014
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