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10/17/2019 2:02:49 PM

Bello Zakariyau
Posts: 6

Death, I have experienced not.
But of it I have stolen, a clear glimpse
As it whisked passed me
So plain
In grim faces with
eyes deeply stained
Evident through streams
Flowing, by the nose, separated.

Ooh! I recognise death:
Dried tongue with bittersweet taste,
Deep into the night, the day, awoken
Taker of all, leaver of none,
I realise who death is,
A promise of roses in the middle of the desert,
A defiant character.

A timely guest
Dogged, deviant and
Sadistic.
leaves at the service of a peculiar excitement
I am it's host, expectant,
But it has, in oft, teased.
I have shared space with death,
A mindful personality.

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