The bittersweet bells of death toll
eerily within my slowly beating heart.
It's sweet call is strong and persistent
within my addled,barely coherent mind.
Death's icy fingers caress my throat,
and clutch at me trying to coax the
sweet warmth of life from me.
The ethereal mists of the after world
slowly drift before my watering eyes,
until I can no longer fight off it's
soft,sweet persistent call.
And enter into the foggy netherworld
of the dead.
Donavon Scott Vinson
