Death

• Hugo Poo, Grade 7
• Poetry
• 2012

It's Death again.
He's always there,
Watching, waiting
ever the stare!
Every time I look behind
Or reach to pull the window blind.
He's there always watching always reminding,
but never minding, the life i never had.
He's ever so blind to not take the time
to pick the one with no mind.
I wish it was me
while i was drinking my tea,
not my father while having a barter.
death didn't take time to think about mine,
so he spat in the face
of the all most natural human race.