The child waited
As her family wept
The priest prayed by her bed
Her mother held her hand
The candle was still burning on the nightstand
Her father wiped his face with his handkerchief
The room was so bright
She couldn’t understand why
Her parents tried to console her brother
“Her suffering has ended”
“She’s in a better place”
She saw a dark figure approach her
“It’s time to leave, child”
“We must go now”
He was covered in a black robe
And no one seemed to notice him
She took his bony hand
And together they left
“I’m sorry” the figure whispered
As she turned and looked into his eyes
Into the never ending darkness
Of death
This poem was influenced by Markus Zusak’s The Book Thief in which the story is narrated by death. It is chillingly realistic and brings out the horrors of Nazi Germany. Likewise I wanted this poem to be chillingly truthful because life isn’t always perfect and death is inevitable.
“She was one of the few souls that made me wonder what it was to live”
“It kills me sometimes, how people die”
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