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AT DEATH'S DARK DOOR...

I am standing at death’s dark door
I see his other lovers lying strewn about on the floor
I don’t want to be one of his terribly intimate lovers
I don’t want to end up under his dirty covers
His hands are cruelly cold
And he is beyond astonishingly old
He glares icily and draws me eminently near
I have so much sorrow and so much to fear
The foul stench of his frozen breath
Foretells gloomily of my impending death
I fear him intensely, however I have no choice but to comply
He has a hold on me that is beyond what I can possibly defy
I know that I will lie with him in his wintry garden of foxglove
I know that he will be my last and forever love
As he takes me, I feel his frigid overwhelming embrace
As he enters me, I feel myself numbed with death’s lovely grace
As he indifferently lays me on the chilly and soiled floor
I see another maiden waiting hopelessly and mournfully at his dark door…
I have been left desolate of continued life
I am on free flow to the eternal afterlife

JANE Á PARIS

Copyright ©2008 JANE Á PARIS

AT DEATH'S DARK DOOR...

JaneAParis

Joined February 2008

  • Artist
    Notes
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Artist's Description

This is about being ill, having no control, and knowing that death is your courter. This is about how cold and unfeeling he is, he will take you and then move on to his next victim. To him you are insignificant…life moves on, and so does death.

Artwork Comments

  • Heath30
  • JaneAParis
  • Crockpot
  • JaneAParis
  • darkestartist
  • JaneAParis
  • Heath30
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