Scythe

He came to my bedside
And told me all things must die
I stared through him
At the teeth chattering on the walls
At the decaying bouquets
At the bodies piled up
In the corner of the room
Light replaced dark
I took his hand
And he smiled

©Stuart Buck

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s