PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

This death,

this death of life moves too slowly-

slowly and prolonging.



It has me gripped, firecly,

in a limbo of its own invention,

forcing me to comply to its wishes.



Oh, were death swift,

oh, were pain bannished,

oh, were the end, my beginning.



But alas,

death is sadistic in this dance

and waltzes me wearisome and unhurriedly to its music.



It holds me close,

pulled tight to his breast,

till breathing comes in gasping exhalations.



Whirling across the ballroom of hell,

all grace vanished from my tortured form,

death takes the lead and I can only follow.



I am but a manequin,

devoid of sequins and silk,

thrust into the waiting arms of this lifelong partner.



Now, I can only wait, longing

for the symphony to end its sorrowful song

and my dancecard to finally fill.