Death Be Death Be Not. Poem by Michael Gale

As i trailed the train whistled tracks across the trestled bridge...
Barn filled black birds, were nestled up close to each other,
up in shadowy-over head rafters, trying to survive and not succomb to the Easterly, chilling, cold winds.

Over to the right about fifteen feet, lie hid behind other shadows...
A scarecrow with eyes squinted too, just like the black burred.

Straw hands reach out for another silent victim...
Shivers sent down a much wanting to scream lady MacBreathless.

Strawed sharp edges slit blood drips over eyelid's slits...
Dripping down into, pools of blood, a hardening, into a streaked, raged fit.

What be this horror mirror? ...
How much awaitening, instilled fearer?

Ever so closer and nearer as, nearer...
An anguished torrential scream, more than an undying drearer.

Scattered wings take off flight from a most frightened a sight...
Worse than worsened, a most worrisome bind.

Blood and screams amid the rails...
Leave behind the horror filled trails.

Death, death just knockin' at your door...
No more life, spread out, along the lone,
blood soaked, floor.