Death As Itself Poem by Samantha Rak

Blowing in the breeze I saw Death
Upon wing like any other bird
But Death was not sing son
Death sang with a dreadful crow!
Death would perch outside my window waiting
ALWAYS waiting
Waiting outside my window
Though always quiet
As if it were listening for something, someone
then, one day, on the Eve of All Hollows
It left with a great flurry and a TERRIBLE cry
It left
Little did I know that it was I it had been waiting for
and it was I who had left in a flurry and a terrible cry
For I am Death as itself