Life is a Razorblade
On its edge we walk
Some slip and fall
But still – we walk
A figure in a black hood
Waits for you in the end
He welcomes you smiling grimly
Your last companion and friend
You feel a chill
Then nothing at all
A body falls on the ground
Releasing a scared soul
A lost soul you are
Where would you go?
To heavens above
Or hell bellow?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem