Death

The blood stained hands

After he ran his fingers through the hairs

His head is now leaking his secret

Death is finally taking up its shape

“All that pain has nowhere to stay

The time is running out

It’s time to bid farewell”

Death said to him as he looked into the mirror

About- This poem was written on May 28, 2026; 9:46am and is part of "Valleys to Jump Into: The Trauma Chapter".