Black Gloves Of Ice

The chill hurtles towards you

Slicing your body

Dissolving you into nothing but hard, hard ice

It strips you off everything you have ever had

And leaves you with nothing but

Black gloves of ice on your hands

Kisses of frost on your lips

And a big, cold hug from Death

 

But instead of running,

You embrace it

You give the cold a warm welcome 

Because you know that it has taken so much people before

And most of them went down fighting

But not you

You give Death a hard stare in the eye

And you can see your mother, father, sister, brother, and friends

In its empty black holes

You glow with the promise of seeing them again

So, so soon

You lay down on the empty street

With the dirty and tainted snow beneath you

And just before you close your eyes, you see it

Death, looking pale and calm, gliding towards you

You almost laugh at the sight

Because Death is not black like the voice

It is as white as snow

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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