Death Poem by Justin Chan

Night falls, as it should.
But tonight,
Will be a different night.

I lie on my bed,
Gasping for breath,
A cold feeling,
Creeping up my bones.

I am alone, as I have been.
But tonight, this very night,
I yearn for company.

A kind smile,
A warm hand,
Some loving words.
I have none of these.

All I have,
Is an old radio.

It plays sad songs,
Of life and death,
And I weep with sorrow.
Alone, crippled,
Blind, old,
In a rundown building.

Softly, oh so softly,
He comes.
Death himself,
Knocks on my door.

For the first time,
I see.
I see, a pitying face,
The face,
Of death.

He comes to me,
Holds my hand.
Rest well, brother,
He says.
You have suffered too much.

He holds my hand,
And reaches for my soul.
The radio sputters,
Song cut off.

I rise out, out of my body.
At peace, I look back,
At my broken body.
What I used to be,
I am no more.
A pallor spreads,
On my physical face.

Death embraces me,
Holds me by my hand.
I follow him,
From the realm of Life,
Into the realm of Death.