DEATH

Death is like a lover,

Stealing and keeping your breath.

How it always seems to hover.

Standing by your shoulder is death.

Death comes with captivating eyes,

With a voice to soothe your fears.

Death comes with bittersweet lies,

Wiping away your tears.

He, or she, the form matters not.

It comes to reap your soul.

For a few, death is the release that was sought.

For others they hate it in whole.

What is death? Friend or foe?

A helper, harmer, or simple being?

What death looks like is something the living doesn't know.

Is the light in the tunnel death that I'm seeing?

Death has taken a very strange form.

The form of someone I can trust.

He's telling me now that all will mourn.

And the blade that I used will rust.

I realize now that he can be trusted,

Unlike people like you.

But with my love you all will be dusted,

The last kind thing I can do.