Death Ii Poem by Wilson Tinotenda Waison

Death
My intimates you mocked and scored
With your encounter the domain is left
In discontent, displeasure and bored
For your meetings are so irksome craft

But why? I brag to question you fiend
And even the descendants you mute
Let in dispair, turmoil and demeaned
Too your encounter turns more acute

To inflict more than assured ever and
Your knowledge reframes the portal
In minds a misconceptional grand
Never to be unlocked and turns fatal

Even the holy book foretell your claims
A step irresistable merely or evermore
With you around turns lamantation
A norm we all cant disclaim nevermore