Who is Death?

I have an avid fascination for morbid.

What would Death look like?

Would Death be a boy or a girl?

If Death were to be a boy;

Would he be young, vital and virile?

Or a little boy with big knowing eyes?

If Death were to be a girl;

Would she be fat and cute,

With a smile of an angel?

Or would she be slim, willowy,

With an aura of mystery?

Would Death be old than young?

If so, would he be an old coot

With a jagged grin?

Or the prime of man

In a tailored suit?

Would she be an old hag

With a feisty temper?

Or a voluptuous beauty

With a knack for deception?

Would Death even appear

If he, or she, were to take us?

Or would he simply lead us

To the tune of his liking?

Would Death even welcome us

With the warmth of an old friend?

Or would he greet us

With the hostility of those we caused suffering?

Would Death lay on his domain to wait?

Or does he mingle amongst us?

There are so many possibilities that all this is endless.

But remember this; Death is death.

We can conjure as many a picture as we like but none would know the better.

In the end, we shall soon meet Death.

Author's Note

Anything wrong? Any improvements?

Reviews

[Eric Cox]

Cool. I like the possibilities you penned much. Nicely done poem.

[Angel Bluestocking]

thanks!:)

[BlackCl0ud]

I like it, I have a soft spot for the morbid. *Smile* The only thing I might change would be the wording in the first line of the last stanza, "that all this are endless". Other than that this is a great wondering poem. ~ BlackCl0ud