Just A Little Past This

[Silver Wingling]

A poem I wrote about death. Not very specific, and no story, but you get the idea.
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Death, like water, is dark and flowing
Always Knowing, how to strike
In night, or day the death bell rings
It brings, a shadow of emotions lights

All frights and fears are here today
To say, follow me to blackness
Oblivion, stillness, leave behind your fragile body
Hurry, death is not much farther past this  

[Silver Wingling]

This was my sad atempt at welsh peotry when I was 12.