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Black Crows

Death Comes For Me

By Alisha WilkinsPublished about a month ago 1 min read
Black Crows
Photo by Alex Grodkiewicz on Unsplash

It’s as if death, himself, were following me

Thorns of my roses

Draw the blood from my wrists

The drink no longer satisfies

The pain never subsides

Death lingers on my lips

Yet pushes back not ready to eclipse

Death lingers in little pills

Yet I wake sore and tired

This red rose is turning black

It’s leaves withering still

It’s thorns shriveling from dryness

Death comes in many forms

Until alas today

Black crows follow me round about

As if death, himself, were following me

For I did not give my life away to him

For I did not place the poison on my tongue

And swallow it whole

For I would not hand over my soul

Now death follows me round about

Pecking at my soul

Tearing to tear my soul apart

fact or fiction

About the Creator

Alisha Wilkins

I've been writing my whole life. Writing about realms to escape in, forbidden characters to fall in love with, and using writing as my muse and refuge. Sometimes writing opens up the soul to healing, learning, and eventually to living again

Reader insights


Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!

Top insight

  1. Heartfelt and relatable

    The story invoked strong personal emotions

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