Death's script

poem by: What'SINside
Written on Nov 07, 2017

To the lamenter, death’s script:
A woman’s story of motherly love:
A soul for which her own soul ripp’d,
Taken away by life’s fragile dove:

Once a woman named Death;
Had in her caressing hands,
A child; stolen by breath;
She wept over her empty lands.

Her smile began to drought:
Now facing her biggest fright,
A promise for she fought,
Never will forget him in her sight:

But what if the boy forgets?
Of those hands, those realms:
One day reunion he’ll regret;
And on her lap his dreams.

Those red tears that followed;
Stained her bed, now un-comfy:
This “Red”, life ”Borrowed”;
And spirited boy’s streams un-dully:

On a cradle when he lay,
The wind chime she tinkers.
But his cries she couldn’t sway,
When music dies and borders.

Toys who served his play;
Out of pity’s sake;
Reminds him of that day;
Whenever they break:

 He couldn’t see when swaggers;
All crawlers trampled:
He couldn’t hear when refers;
The dead kitten who staggered:

He couldn’t see when grips,
Were on his bubble beard:
He couldn’t hear when rips;
A happy rose from its heard:

All pointed her and her alone;
Where this everlasting love comes:
All said it was her frown,
What shaded his tantrums:

All thought before they died,
That they were still loved:
All were singing Death’s lied,
All along to see her moved.

When time allowed her to,
Reap her long lost children.
Lonesome madness jumped hitherto,
Her dry lips broaden.

Knowing now her existence,
He curses on her face:
Unaware of his indecency,
Shocks and stumbles, her grace:

Shortly after it’s his time,
And the idea hits.
Can’t even work a single dime,
To weight his pockets:

All he knew was his life;
And those things he loved.
But didn’t know his strife,
Was in his mind shoved:

Now death worriedly smiles;
Still the man cries.
For another hours trial’s;
A many countless tries:

Since he had no other choice,
With her tries to compensate:
Couldn’t bring his stuttering voice,
Tried telling of her foul hate:

But alas! Died he;
Time enough he didn’t have.
What could his words be?
Those in dreams he craved.

In an abyss now he stands;
Cold winds and no light.
A maiden holding out her hands;
Her face: beautiful, bright.

She tells him her story,
Told him how he needed care.
“Never was it your folly,
Please don’t accuse, don’t you dare!”

The man in tears;
She wipes them off:
Takes all his fears;
Her hands she scrolls:

“What’s this place so dull and shadow?”
“It used to be our kind home,
Before; it was colourful meadow.
Life stole it and made a tomb.”

“Look that way and you’ll see”
An old lady he saw,
“She loves you as much as me.”
His heart filled with piteous awe.

“She grows old, will come to me;
Soon you’ll play with her again:
Till that time, let it be;
Hold my hands and let it strain.”

“What about her?” he asks.
“When she’ll come to bow;
She’ll feel sorry for her task,
I’ll hold her like you now.”

26th April, 2016


Tags: Happy, Sad, Depressing, Dark, Deep,