Death Comes

• Arran Hersburgh, Grade 9
• Poetry
• 2015

Death is the dark side of the moon,
little is known, nothing is condoned.
Death is a song crooned with no syncopation,
death is the devils chord, that deafens your unknown.It is the middle note, either octave
can be taken. Death shows no mercy,
like a drum without a player. Comes knocking,
it shows no guilt, no forgiveness.
Death is thy releaser of pain, sorrow and grief.
Death is thy friend, not thy enemy.
Thou shall search, yet not discover. To what relief?
No resolve found, but the swish of the scythe.
Death cannot be forced, only received, to find bliss.
Death shall take us all, let us all not remiss.