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.