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Death
Death is a part of a timeline
An ending of a life.
It may be an endless sleep you never see coming,
Or maybe it’s the complete opposite.
Running into a knife ten times,
And excessively bleeding
On the
Cold
White
Kitchen tiles.
Some are beaten to death,
Covered in
Scrapes and scratches,
With blue and purple bruises
Covering head to toe.
With your last words not be words at all,
But bloody cries and screams
From pain
And sorrow.
Others are brutally killed from stupidity,
From themselves and even others.
Cars crashing at an intersection,
Bones cracking
And air bags exploding out,
A concussion is the best thing to happen.
For others face death,
And the last thing they see
Are the headlights of the person who collided with them.
The blinding bright light
And the screeching tires,
Are the last things seen,
And the last things heard.
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