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Scarlet sorrow
The black hand of death,
Strikes down to kill.
The last scarlet breath
Blankness, lingering sorrow,
Death, floating to earth like a silver feather,
The winged angels will sing no more tomorrow.
The black hand of death,
Strikes down to kill.
The last scarlet breath
Blankness, lingering sorrow,
Death, floating to earth like a silver feather,
The winged angels will sing no more tomorrow.
The title caught my eye..............
poem is short and fierce, like a passing stranger's glare....... but tell me why did I feel as I was reading it that I got sent to hell? ..... ( rhetorical question!) Thought provoking poem....... Thanks for sharing......... Sincerely, Melissa Lundeen.