The Power of Death

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Tears trickle down the face
The blurry vision of death
The face masked in fear and sorrow
A flower aged to the stem
Lying against the stone
Cold
And
Dead
A skeleton beneath it all
In a never ending slumber
A never ending
Inescapable
Dream
And surrounding it all are pretty flowers
But to the face
The mind
They are as ugly and brown
As the one on the grave
They are
Dead
To the eyes and mind
Evil tricks at play
Ones that have trapped this face in a mask
Of sorrow
Of fear
And of bitterness





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Coolio1234 said...
Feb. 11, 2009 at 10:10 pm
I love this poem! I would like to see this in one of Teen Ink's magazines. You have a talent! It is quite dark, but...it is vivid-ish. If you tweak it, it could go sooo far!
 
cat!lady said...
Nov. 18, 2008 at 1:42 am
I love this poem. It made me think about death, and how people fear it so much, but that is a function of their own subjective point of view in being alive, and maybe there is really nothing to fear. Maybe the experience of being dead is like being in an endless dream, surrounded by pretty flowers!

The poem offers plenty more to think about on other levels: What makes death so powerful to us? Is "evil" just another function of the human mind, maybe a false one at... (more »)
 
D S. said...
Nov. 18, 2008 at 1:21 am
Great work and very graphic
 
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