Wasted Life Poem by David W Choate
Wasted Life
How does it feel
To have the overarching
Angel of Death looming over you?
I know her intimately.
A Solicitous anxiety
You feel?
No. No..No... Smug fool.
No more solicitous for you
Than a fitted pine box.
I presage no redemption
For your birthright in Heaven.
You sold that long ago.
The World you leave a mess
Means nothing
To the Angel of Death.
She just came to end yours.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/28/2024 11:12:48 PM # 1.0.0.1119
