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Rafaj7

If you don't learn to write your own story, someone else will write it for you

2 poems·Since March 2019
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Imagery

March 9, 2019

In the cold, dusk evening

A man comes to you in his dark silky cloth

You can see the pale white hands 

On one and he's clutching a sort of pamphlet

As you look closely you see your name written on it

Closer and closer he gets to you

And by the time he gets to you it's too late

Your life has met a certain fate 

Life flashes before your eyes, and then you see

That death will come for you and me

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