Grim
Do you feel His breath
on your back?
In this land
of suffocating black?
Where here,
None stride.
There is nowhere
to hide.
For the darkness is
His own eyes.
Run for your life,
run for your soul.
Or He,
And His scythe
shall reap thee whole!
Your heart,
Tis His prize.
Your life,
Tis His game.
Your fear,
Tis His drive,
And on His blade,
lie your name.
See Him standing,
somber, tall.
Death, He lives within us all.
-A.M
Tempestlady commented on Grim
02-28-2013
To have great poets there must be great audiences too.
Walt Whitman, American Poet (1819-1892)
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
|---|---|---|
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
| Happy Dagger | 0 | 10/19/2013 |
| Mother. | 0 | 03/06/2013 |
| Trudge | 0 | 03/01/2013 |
| Discovery | 1 | 02/20/2013 |
| Timid | 0 | 02/20/2013 |
| Dice | 0 | 02/20/2013 |
| Voices | 2 | 02/20/2013 |
| Grim | 1 | 02/20/2013 |
| Violet | 0 | 02/20/2013 |
| BEFORE I CONTINUE! | 0 | 02/20/2013 |
| Always Deciding | 0 | 02/20/2013 |
| Forgive | 1 | 11/27/2010 |
| Missing Pieces | 4 | 09/15/2010 |
| The Raven | 1 | 04/21/2010 |
| Lost Wings | 1 | 04/18/2010 |
| You are | 3 | 04/05/2010 |
| Mist | 7 | 02/18/2010 |
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