Death visited

poem by: Aina A
Written on Apr 28, 2019 

The hand of death has laid its hand on me

It laid its hand inside my dreams
It touched me in my sleep
It visited during the day
It spoke to me
It saw me; and

I saw its face
I stared deep into its eyes
I smelled its stench
I tasted rot
I felt its cold

It burned my skin
It left a mark
Its mark is on my shoulder
Its mark is on my back; but

My eyes are here, at front of face

They see it clearly
Its here and it is not
I welcome it into my soul

 

Tags: Abstract,

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