Room Of The Dead Poem by alemdar koroglu

A room, a candle on the floor, curtains down;
A naked shirt on the floor, it's awake from fear.
Milky white walls, the shadows of the nails;
No crackling, no sound of footsteps…
Lying there in the bed, the long tall dead;
Covered with a sheet head to toe.
On the sheet, the foot prints;
More yellow than the flame of the candle, pale skin.
Hollow chest after the last breath, arm stretched to the side;
Eyes of colorful stone reflecting on the timber ceiling
A line on the hanging lips;
A small line, small, as a shaking moment.
On the hanging lips a shaking moment;
Obviously, death came and took him with out a fight
This is my own death, this is my own death
When it comes for me, it will come like this…