Death

Death was my friend, 

Or so I would say, 

He left me untouched, 

While the past died away. 

He told me to hide, 

When he would have come, 

And I listened to death, 

As my breath was still young. 

Death would sing songs, 

That would wake me from sleep, 

And though I had seen him, 

He’d left me that peek. 

Death's cloak wasn’t black, 

His body unburned, 

Though nothing to stop him, 

He left me his word. 

Death was my friend, 

Or so I had said, 

For the moment he left me, 

I knew I was dead.