Disease is Cold Death

Disease is Cold Death

A Poem by Quail

this a darker me, i realized you have to percieve the world in every view no matter how much light fades


Do you hear the cough under the virus

The blood that trickles slowly down the hand

Eyes that blink slowly

The heartbeat that begins to halt

And yet the air around it is still


Footsteps turn and faint as they get further away

The sun runs to hide bumping into the moon

While the heat is taking from the body

Bit by Bit

Shadows began to whisper

Trees began to whip the air

The ground opens

A black cloak appears

The moon's light reveals the instrument wielded by this being

The cloak begins to move foward

Grass, Trees, and life itself seems to wither

Becoming smaller to the point of nothing

The cloak stops at the feet of the body

Still fighting the death

As it listens it notices the heartbeat is very faint

All color is gone

And the eyes are locked on him

A smirk is upon the cloaks face

As he pulls back his hood

Bone with dark hollow eyes stare up at the moon

Are You Ready? The cloak ask already knowing there will be no answer

He lifts his hand revealing they are also bone

Thick silver smoke drops down to this body

But as quickly as it drops it rises

Bringing back company

A light blue smoke

Your soul it says already anticipating the question

The body disappears

The hood is back on, the instrument vanishes

And the cloak walks off

Descending back into the shadows


© 2011 Quail

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Indeed, you portray Death, cold, clinical, without compassion. Well done.

Posted 9 Years Ago

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1 Review
Added on March 31, 2011
Last Updated on May 13, 2011



Athens, GA

I love Poetry more..

Distance Distance

A Poem by Quail