Doon

A poem

Walk right through another door,
Might be like the room before:
Dark & Dead with no sign of life.
I am wrong, behold, a stranger lurking steadfast with a blade, a knife.

I stop dead in my tracks.
He raises his clenched fist, high behind his back.
His arm coming down like a hammer to attack,
My eyes set agaze to the blade in his grasp.

I try to move, but my body was slow to react.
Blood oozing from where my skin used to be intact.
My body is cold and eyelids sag,
Death greats me to eternity with another stab.

My life has drained into that floor.
Now my body, my life is no more.
Now due to the stranger, the killer, alert & steadfast,
Has finally made me free at last.