Death's Fiend

December 22, 2011
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Death’s pure counterfeit,

In a horrid form,

Jerking and pursuing,

One to be forlorn.

Rampaging images


– among silhouettes of reality.

Placating iniquity


– amid white washed tombs.

No more! Screeched she,


The one with the vacant face and uncertain end


The one, indeed, without a friend.


Life’s foil


-should not be caught in the realms of nature’s breath.

Death’s fiend


–must not bow and sue for grace on suppliant knee.

But all will soon submit,

Even those of vacant face,

Consumed by solitude,

And inevitable fate.

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PeacockChicken said...
Jan. 1, 2012 at 2:34 am
I love it. this is really good!!!!!!!!
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