By Jayson F.
Death awaits as he slowly passes on
We wait hoping that Death will keep away
As we pray for a peaceful death
We painfully notice him slipping away
Slowly he passes
A warrior who braved many wars
For his nation and for himself
We argue and try reasoning with Death himself
Yet all he has to say is that he is doing his job
With his saddened message he leaves with the warrior
Death leaves, leaving us with memories and sadness
With empty holes in our hearts
Time seems to slow down
Days pass and it feels like years
Day after day it seems to get worse
Until it can’t get anymore worse than it already is.

By Jayson Foster
Is it the cool of the glazing snow,
Of which puts my soul into a cool slumber?
And the blistering heat of the sun,
To waken my slumbering soul?
Or the unforgettable sign of rejection
Putting me so low, I feel six-foot under,
And the sign of hope in the spark of her eyes
Fueling me to climb any mountain
But when it crumbles and under I go
Dark and gloomy I hide
Becoming a new person
A person of darkened living
To live off the fuel of others saddened lives
Becoming the one who everyone fears
I have become Death, the reaper of souls.
To live forever lost in thought of collecting souls
Thriving on others depression and sadness,
I watch the world as it gets wrapped by my hands,
Yet wait, who is that over there,
That person thriving, and rising over,
Becoming one like me,
But only she strives happily
And as I watch her I see images of my mortal life
Images of happiness,and most of all - I SEE HOPE
Gradually as my hands try to grasp at the world
She grabs my hands and fills me with the happiness I’d never seen
And together we become one
And we become the person we've always wanted to be.

The flowers of old,
Blossoming and becoming anew,
The oldest of roses to die and be reborn,
Red, Yellow, Black,
Red: for the love I could only dream of,
Yellow: for the friend I will never see again,
Black: for the family I won't see until Death meets with me.

But yet, here come a person with a new handful of flowers!
The choices, how to pick, and where to start?
From wilted flowers to ambrosia,
For my love is to be rejected by most,
And loved by few.
From the pine to the petunias,
For my self-hope only causes pity from others.
Of which causes anger towards those people.
Candytuft, dead leafs, gloxinia, and orange lilies,
All symbolize my life,
Indifference and Hatred,
Sadness and love at first sight,
All those things put together,
Yet I still try living through all the conflicts.

By,
Jayson Foster