Posted in Poem

The Dance Of Death

Will it be today, I don’t know.
Maybe tomorrow I’ll go

I can feel her watching down on my every move.
I’m a puppet in her play, Will she give my character another day.

She smiles down on me and all I can do is smile back,
After all, what’s the point in frowning,
One day she’ll take her shot and hit the spot

Till then I’m dancing to her beat,
Just moving my feet, Fast enough to last enough to make something count.

It won’t be long till I come to the end of her song and take my last breath.

This is the dance of death

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s