No memories of him
Save for the much grief he caused
And the thorn of the flesh he was
He inflicted big sorrows
And cut off wings
That wanted to fly
Looking upon his image
You will know
That the end finally beckons
Now is the veil torn
Revealing,
A cold and dark prison
On the brink
And far too late
He prayed for silence
And in death's darkness
To find at least
A little light
But to the wicked
Recompense surely!
For even in the light
Darkness is sure!
On the brink
He stands face to face
With his worst fear
As death flickers
Over his dark soul
Reckoning whispers
Death finds you wanting
His wasted life
Written on the big screen
In this one final breath
He only wishes he could turn again
To life, to living, to loving
....But too late
He stands on the brink
The image source is from pixabay for this contest by @wakeupkitty, the host on behalf of @freewritehouse.
The poem and musings are all mine.
You can participate in this contest here
I am @edith-4angelseu and thank you for stopping by my neighbourhood.