Final Session

I'm not very good,

Don't have much to say,

And when I try to speak up

the wind swallows what I have to say.

I keep the oddest company

She stalks me every day.

I feel her breathing down my neck,

I hear her humming softly.

She welcomes me into her home,

Tempts me to walk in.

Kuolema, Kuolema

Walking through a crowded place,

lost in the sea,

I can feel her creeping by,

watching over me.

She's always close behind me,

keeping me in line,

always stalking, hunting, wanting.

She's flitting through the people,

the ones surrounding me.

The ones that cannot see her,

yet fear her and the ones that don't see me.

Morte, Morte.

All alone safe and sound,

In my humble home.

I can still feel her presence,

her claws taking hold.

Attacking me, her prey, from the inside out.

Attacking me, my soul, from within my house.

She's as subtle as a cloud, beautiful as a dream.

I want her to take over, then want her to leave me.

I see her everywhere, claiming every living thing.

For every thing that breathes, has a final session with her to see.

I feel her all around,

Know what's coming next.

Still, I'll fight back my final session with Death.

Reviews

[Hi]

What Dream said was true, you almost always leave us on the verge of asking you questions when you write poems...

[closed]

You leave a certain mystery with this poem. Its fun that we don't know who or what the enigma is until the end of it, discovering that its death. Ambient, soothing, and a good mystery. A good write.

-Dream