Author Information
Death
Folder:
Subjects A shadow that grows near,
Makes all words clear,
Aimed for all is a spear,
It feeds on the fear.
We try to escape this invasion,
We fear so our answer is evasion,
The one with no discrimination,
Deaf to the persuasion.
Our permanent neighbour,
To some it’s their saviour,
Has a different flavour,
The answer to find the maker.
We coward from death,
A liar runs so quickly out of breath,
It’s a bath,
An answer to all the wrath,
It’s an oath,
Coming for people who haven’t experienced growth.
