Creeping up slow
Making you go
No accidents or coincidences
Just Death's chilling solo
A dark shadowy stroll
Reaping, taking its toll
Death drinks possibilities
And feasts on grief
No matter how safe
No matter how sound
Death finds a way
Rich or poor
Beautiful or ugly
Smart or stupid
Happy or depressed
Death makes no exception
All will all be taken
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem