Death

• Tamasha Abeyratne, Grade 6
• Poetry
• 2017

Death

The cold converge bites,
It runs through me as if in a cave as dark as night,
All is hazy,
My legs all weak as if they were lazy,
A dark cloud of fear edges towards me,
I felt as if about to be stung by one thousand bees,
Death is about to strike at it’s vulnerable prey!