Title: Shadow of Death
by Asmaa from Lancashire | in writing, poetry
His are the eyes that bought it all falling/
His is the mouth of evil scorning,
Blackened by his heart in a funeral mourning-
Blackened like oil on while hail thundering.
His is the voice of fear too frightening/
His is the touch of ice that's freezing,
Hardened by the years of evil and suffering-
Hardened to the core like stones gruelling.
His are the footsteps on the earth prowling/
His is the walk that destructs all to crumbling,
Echoed by the sound of drums beating slowly-
Echoed like the sounds of faraway calling.
His is the gloom that darkens all glistening/
His is the gaze that paralyses all that's living,
Shadowed by his strength in desperate yearning-
Shadowed like the figure; overhead looming
His is the shadow
His shadow is death.
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