Death's Gift

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Death's Gift

Sanity leaves its cold reminder

Rage and furry start their burning fire

Pain; deep and twisted with awe and wonder

Many watching with strangled sob, that black pyre


No one knows the agony so deep

As those who loved and lost that one true mate

Wishing only for that truest sleep

but many plan to lay with cruel fate


Only knowing the true Divinity

Of the purest form of insanity

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Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.

Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

CelesteNight’s Poems (8)

Title Comments
Title Comments
Fate's Cruel Game 0
Love Unrequited 1
Death's Gift 0
Stolen Moments 1
Id Rather Hate you 0
Wanna Let Go 0
Dare 0
Found 0

CelesteNight’s Friends (2)