The Price Of Death Poem by Whitney Davis
The Price Of Death
Rating: ★4.5
On the brink of death,
You draw your last breath.
As your life wanes,
You can feel the pain.
Death is there in his cloak,
Standing by an old oak.
There for the toll,
The price is your soul.
You took your own.
This is known.
Those who care,
Thought you wouldn’t dare.
You left them alone
On this giant stone.
You flew to the sky,
And left them to cry.
Monday, April 7, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: Suicide
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5/6/2024 6:53:35 AM # 1.0.0.1119
