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This is poetry depicting death as he is, with symbolism and a certain degree of scenery. |
| Through the dark valleys of death The rosary of blood, Eyes of black Here the darkness knows no rest For all is calm, the sun is set The moon lit bright, with the clouds fluorescent glow Shined down upon the scarlet rose Almost vibrant, yet suttle beneath The graves forboding gleams of grief In the shadows of the night Rose the man in black, with smiling delight Patiently watching the sands of time For all is brittle, not worth the tries He comes and goes as he pleases For all is nigh upon his presence For in his hands is the scarlet rose When all is lost, and never more |