Death

• Emily O'meara, Grade 8
• Poetry
• 2018

Why has Death come to steal something precious?
To steal Life's superior handiwork?
Lying in my bed ,my world turns surreal,
And Deaths mighty cold hand leaves me breathless

Waking into a senseless, cold, nightmare,
The smell of blood engulfed all of me.
Figures of red, tread around a cold hell
And the feeling of despair consumes me

Suddenly the fear has left me alone,
And the warmth of life has come back to me.
So why did Death leave, why did Death take flight?
Was my life not the life to take tonight?

As long as I keep on breathing today
I can keep the mighty Death far away