HomeA Poem by sutoraikaA collaborative and random poem with Rai-hanDeath, he said - the cloaked figure with hollow eyes, with the scythe of ten feet tall... Death whose hands he longed for in troubled times - an unlikely friend; Death whom he welcomes like the cold winter breeze, that takes away sorrow, frosts his tears before they fall, greet me, he said. Lead me home to her whom you have taken and I shalt give thee the only thing I so possess. Take me, Death, and you shalt have your just reward... I do not fear thee - I fear the silence of the room as my voice, the only voice, bounces of these walls. I fear night for night cannot bring me sleep when my thoughts return to her as her ghost haunts me; she is the ghost in the snow, her empty eyes calling me, her lips of deep red I have longed to touch, her pale skin glowed in the soulless night sky. Plunge thy scythe in my heart, so I too be as white as snow. Death, he said, Take me Home. And Death embraced him in his cold hands. There was only blackness as Death cradled him in his arms. The lone soul muttered in silence, I am home. © 2009 sutoraikaAuthor's Note
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Added on May 30, 2009 AuthorsutoraikaCanadaAboutI'm a modern bard Who cannot rhyme I'm a new-age writer Who doesn't publish I am an amateur Who can make it. more..Writing
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