Death's Touch


Lying in bed for days

Everything around is a haze.

Your closet doors are no more,

All you see is black mist covering your floor.

The walls are gone,

Every things black,

You start to cry,

Lying there on your back.

As you stare at the ceiling

Something stares back.

It starts reaching towards you,

With the sound of a crack.

Covers now over your head,

You begin to pray,

To God, Jesus, or whoever’s listening that day.

You wake the next morning feeling better than ever.

Wondering how you survived that endeavor.

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