Deathbed

• Grace Brockett, Grade 8
• Poetry
• 2012

Blackened, dead, severed, head,
Bullets, lead: Battlefield.

Tears, loved ones, lost, runs,
Daughters, sons: Orphans.

We screamed, we howled,
We wept, we growled.
But Death comes with his scythe
And we fear our fragile life.

Leaping, pouncing, killing, sweeping,
Sorrow, reaping: War.

Losing, runs, hiding, guns,
Shatter, slumps: Dead.

We screamed, we howled,
We wept, we growled.
But despite our efforts we all are dead;
The lights are out, we’ve gone to bed.