Death


It’s cold.
It is dark and windy.
I look around,
Only to see no one.

I’m shaking,
I don’t know what is happening,
I feel like I’m fading.

I walk around
Only to notice that I am lost,
Like I’m in a maze
But I’m no mouse.

I hear a noise
Like a sharp clap or snap
That echoes through the foul land
And never ends.

I close my eyes,
Tell myself that it is a bad dream,
But it can’t be,
For I see, hear, smell, and feel.

What is this trap?
What foul game is at play?
Am I dead,
Or is this just what death feels like?
For it is nearing me.

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