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Rated: E · Poetry · Experience · #1730194
A somewhat depressing poem about death.
Death's cruel hand snatches.
He takes without remorse, he leaves without remorse.
We fight him on all fronts; physically and mentally, medically and spiritually.
We have won battles, lengthening our lives,
but with all battles their are casualties.
And I fear this is a war we cannot win,
or should want to win.
You may want to live with your loved ones for eternity,
but what of the peaceful end,
the fragile beauty of a life well lived.
For as long a deaths hand snatches,
we shall attempt to fight.
For humanity's sake we strive for unneeded perfection.
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Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1730194-Deaths-Battle