Mors

You go into those places
Deep down inside your mind
Forbidden, isolated
Guarded by darkness
And ruled by death

Where you find yourself
Thinking
These places seem to be
Overrated
Seen thru unwarranted eyes
Of fear
In closed minds

 

They are not nearly
As dangerous
As people often, say
Then suddenly
Without warning

It is there
The death
You are always avoiding
In front of you
In good spirits
Staring back

 

As if
It knew all along
That sooner
Or
later
You would arrive
To says hello
And
Then goodbye

 

 

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Mors