Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jul 2014
Death isn't cold. They lied. Death is the one time that people truly celebrate you. The one time that people shed tears as they run the memory gauntlet that is You.
Death isn't empty. They fled. Death is the portal between this existence and the celestial playground. Run, jump, play...
Death isn't hard. They miscalculated. Death is the easiest thing you will ever do. Though the path may be long and hard, the end will prove effortless.
Death isn't final. They erred. From the grips of death comes the renewal of souls. Focus becomes clear, truth becomes real, death becomes life.
Death isn't death.
Timothy Michael Jacobs
Written by
Timothy Michael Jacobs  Toronto
(Toronto)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems