The Beauty Of Death Poem by Amelie Ison

I stare into the soul of death:
She has eyes like nothing I have seen before,
And she exhibits her wrath by staring right back.

She knows what she is doing—cold;
Merciless. Her body coils around me,
And with every tighten I feel her taking more of my life.

But I am resigned; I feel nothing.

Let her—a bringer of death; a keeper of souls—
Escort me to the Valley where I shall live out my days:
In the depths of hell, for I am not free of sin.

She will join me one day
And we shall go hand in hand:
The Magpie and the Snake,

As friends of deceit and cunning. Collectors
Of all those lost. So I stare into the soul of death,
Reassured because I know this is how it should be.