The shade of death is made of a canopy piercing icicles cold
That mortal eyes ache upon its view and cannot comprehend or behold
Yet when mortal eyes are in eternal darkness closed
And death, cold and pale upon the length limbs stretched, reposed
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Really good poem. Good write. May I invite you to read two of mine. One called, the beast. And one called, Boy to a man. Both true storys.
The quest for the answer is so simple and yet so hard to grasp. Read mine - O Dearest Love - Adeline