The name of this poem is "Death Calls Out To Us" it has a PG-13 rating. The poem is also not dedicated to anyone, and criticism is allowed.
21:31, February 15, 2015 (UTC)
No-one is allowed to copy from this, you may use the ideas that you may receive from reading this. If you wish to use part of this poem in a story or for anything else on the wiki, politely ask me before you copy the poem.
What does death want with us?
Why does it laugh viciously when it takes another?
Why do we cry so when we loose yet another?
When will we realize that the end an end is near?
How can we, be ready, in every moment?
How can we, stand, when all around us falls?
How can we carry on when everything emits death?
How can we continue on, brushing death aside?
What gives us that false sense of pride?
Oh, that which we try to hide,
That which we try to hide…
How long will it take until the tide washes over??
When will it wash over our lines in the sand?
Will you and I then run hand in hand?
Or, will the waves wash away our names?
IS it all these silly games?
All the silly things that I call fame.
How simple is it,
that the sand
Never the same as it was,
but washed away.
Like time in a bottle,
Dripping, slowly, quickly away.
How will I face the entire onslaught of the waves?
When the water is rushing in, will I sink or swim?
How can I blame the water,
When I never learned to swim?
How can I blame the air?
The air I never learned to breathe.
How can I blame the water that drags me down?
What does it do?
Can’t I still breathe?
Aren’t my lungs filling with water?
How can I blame this feeling,
so painful, for how I feel?
Don’t I have myself?
Myself and only I?
Am I truly the reason?
The reason why waves crash and pour from my eyes?
Am I the reason they fill my lungs?
Am I the reason death’s pain