PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

It happened at a tender age
Of only twelve ingenuous years
When I had undergone the rage
Which led loved ones and I to tears.

I had seen Death.

She was peaceful, natural, and serene
With a flawless beauty
That made me glad to have seen
Death as the maiden she is, truly.

I feared not of Death.

She had begun to trot to me
Slowly; as I had gotten more eager
She stopped and I didn't see fully
Her as I longed to see her.

I couldn't reach Death.

She told me that it was not my time
To leave or to go way
And I was young and had no crime;
Those were the words Death had to say.

I could hear Death.

I asked why age mattered?
Then, she had just vanished;
I thought she was not so flattered
And something told me I was being manish.

I insulted Death.

I was twelve years
When I had boldly faced
Many people's biggest fears
And I didn't know what took place...

When I first saw Death.