The Kiss Of Death Poem by martin.j. schofield

She came to visit,
Whilst it was dark outside,
Blacker yet, inside;
She came, put lips on lips,

That sank so far into me,
As to cause unjust unrest,

And shake my foundations;
To stagger and sway,
To the point of extraction;
She came so I might heed,
Her warning,
Not to mention,
Never to awaken,
No glorious morning,
She came again to visit me,
This angel of death,
With a kiss to reflect,
To draw forth my very soul;
For payment was due,
For the past draws ever closer,
To the present, to meet that,
Which we only hope to crush,
On one glorious morning.