Poetry

Death

written by: azceltic

In death I write to the souls that listen.
Fear is not in the darkness but in the light.
Hands grasp my bleeding neck and I feel finally,
I feel. Not pain nor pleasure but a gentle whisper
That flutters over my body. Sending chills down my spin.
This is not so horrible as they dream but more beautiful
Than I ever imagined. The warmth of hell's fire causes me to
Open my eyes. How can one fear this beautiful place. The devil
Is inside me and it is not ugly but wonderfully beautiful.
Sinful beauty surrounds this place don't morn for me or waist
Your breath on prayers. For I can't hear or see your tears and
All I feel is warmth and a wonderful fulfilling happiness.