Angel of Death
They're all crowded around it,
staring at it like its not really there,
expecting it to all just be a dream.
the man inside is there, alone, and in darkness.
people cry for him, but its too late,
his time was up.
and now hes standing there,
on that great white plain,
looking around and seeing nothing.
until he finally looks up,
only to stare into the face of the angel of death,
as he gets taken away.
never to be seen again,
except only in stories and in memories,
until that too, fades away,
and is forgotten.
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Comments about this poem (Angel of Death by Jeryn Bean )
- Parents need good parenting., PARTHA SARATHI PAUL
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