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He gazed and wondered,
As shone the blazing sun.
Did he hold this blade?
Or did this blade hold him?

Thoughts rushed over him,
His eyes glazed over,
A bead of sweat formed,
As the blade moved closer...

The tip touched his skin,
Flinching from the cold.
His hand backed away,
They loostened their hold.

He thought of her,
Of what had happened.
And wondered to himself:
Was this really the end?

Was all of this in vain?
Was it worth it all?
Did he make a difference?
Or just stand to fall?

His eyes narrowed,
Fight, he thought.
Of course it was worth her!
Into death he was lured...

His hands clasped firm,
His soul did keep.
The blade swung forth,
And dug in deep.

He choked suddenly,
The air drawing thin.
His eyes turned grey,
Darkness took him.

He saw them now,
Their evil grins.
But he was no longer,
Binded by Him.

Through them he flew,
He did not recoil.
And then he landed,
Onto hard, grey soil.

Death filled the air,
If only he'd knew.
It filled everything.
It filled him too.


The following comments are for "Into Death"
by T

Yeh I based it on the final scene of a story I wrote (which never got finished by the way).

Thanks for the comments.

( Posted by: t [Member] On: September 23, 2004 )

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