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The platinum fog surrounds reality’s vision
From life going about its simple disposition.
The echo of death-screams
Can only be heard
While awaiting for light to give back day in reverse.

Death likes to work in the shadows
Using the shrowd
While firing lustrous tipped arrows.

The lost souls have nowhere to hide
As life can’t see the dark between the living-disguise.
A night filled with silver skies
As the moon helps death to ambush its surprise.

The lost souls of earth run for cover
Because death is one mean mother fucker.


If you liked this? you can check out more death poems by me here


◄ Death Party

Walking With My Son ►


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