Natahsa Bellerose


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Best Poem of Natahsa Bellerose

Death

The hands seem to slow,
Upon the clock of life.
No more time to grow,
Amongst our mortal strife.

You envision the past,
The future is brought to mind.
Life was not as vast,
As we happen to find.

You leave the solid cage,
The opening of a door.
Getting lost in immortal page,
Where humanity is just lore.

We never come to expect death,
Or it's dark, icy breath.

Read the full of Death

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