After death will anything last,
Or will everything just remain in the past?

After death will I find afterlife,
Or is the end really just that blinding white light?

After death will I be remembered,
Or as ashes will my body be rendered?

After death will my lover, his love for me realise,
Or will he just go and find a girl more poise?

After death will my poems live on,
Or is it just a trick and they too will be gone?

She was an angel
Before she met them.
A large wing span,
And a huge grin;
Beautiful brown locks,
And flawless skin.
They cut off her wings,
She walked on, broken.
They chopped off her legs,
She crawled on, broken.
They bit off her arms,
She lay there, broken.
But then they sawed off her head,
Devastated, she haunts them, broken.

The wind blew away the doubt,
And I gave in to my feelings for you;
But then came the tornado,
Ripping me apart from you.