Poems: Memories Made From Silk

When I open the doors of Death,

Memory Lane is a path well traveled

That I myself must go forth.

Today might be tomorrow or yesterday.

From that from wence I came,

I must go forth into that deep abyss of the unknown.

I know not of what comes after my journey

But only of which feelings I might feel.

Chaos reigns down the heart,

As I’m forced to watch memories of old.

I care not for these wretched feelings.

As the end draws near, 

I know not of what to do.

A figure bathed in shadows greets me.

“Hello, Death. My time has come, has it not?”

The figure only nods and reaches for my hand.

The shadows are like silk as they cover me.

Life, as I know, has ended.

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