How I died
By redskittle
- 1338 reads
I lie here,
life leaking out of me,
dripping.
The colours wash out.
I watch ghosts approach,
whispering,
content in the grey realm.
I feel a surge of faith,
life trying to preserve itself,
assert itself.
One last fight.
One last stand.
The grey mist descends,
caressing, seducing.
Life trickles out of me.
This is the way the world ends,
Not with a bang but with a whisper.
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Comments
I liked this, there's a real
I liked this, there's a real visual picture of colour drain and muteness.
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knock-knock knockin' on heaven's door
'The grey mist descends, caressing, seducing. Life trickles out of me.' "Feels like I'm knocking on heaven's door."
Excellent poem. You catch the mood perfectly. Keep well. Tom Brown
PS. But perhaps it's a love poem? In which case I would say it's brilliant.
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