Death's Story

• Finn Macken, Grade 7
• Poetry
• 2013

The pitiful human condition,
The flickering presence of hope,
Burning as sparks off a grindstone,
My cold hands shall guide them to sleep,
I am always present,
In the twisted shadow of the mind,
Fear can take such subtle shapes,
The raven and the scythe,
How can one portray me?
When even life hides,
From the cold embrace of my cloak,
And the black sand filtering slowly,
I am ever victorious,
Time drags not upon me,
For in the future, past and present,
I will always be,
Time dies as I wander,
As I kill I set one free,
For in my embrace the soul is clear,
And one’s secrets may live,
Souls extinguished slowly
Sparks in the dark,
As told by Death,
As life weeps over his cold anger,