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Would that I were ashes scattered,
or wrapped in black with edges tattered,
reflects a broken mind, 'tis shattered.

Death, no fearsome thing it be,
as someday all will come to see.
Sooner, though, should it claim me.

Call it Life, 'tis much to bear.
Quickened clap in startled night air.
Face I Death?.... Do, I dare.
©2007-2009 ~Tassadar723
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Submitted: July 21, 2007
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It seems to me that men all too often fear that which they don't or can't understand; in this case, death. I suppose sometimes, I welcome it.

Such a waste of their fleeting time.... Why fear something inescapable?
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