The Knock of Death – Poem

What’s life?

We are born with so much pain simply to live.

We grow – healthy or ill.

We live – happy or sad.

We fall in love – to lose a part of us

Or to connect with another missing part.

 

And we die.

Death always made me sad.

Death always made me cry.

Death always confused me.

 

What is it, it wants?

Does it have any satisfaction?

Is it becoming more powerful with each body it takes?

Is every soul part of something?

Does the shadow go somewhere?

 

Where?

 

I want to follow it.

I cannot believe it.

I do not want to imagine it.

I do not want to live with the thought of death

Coming knocking on my door.

 

My body sore.

It hurts because the death took your body.

I lost the smell of you.

The death took you somewhere.

Is it now the time to talk about heaven and hell?

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