Caroline Gerardo
Art of Poetry
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Friday, April 28, 2023
Death
Death, the final river we will cross,
A mystery that none can truly fathom.
With every breath we take, it draws near,
A constant shadow looming over our path.
Leaves naught but memories in its aftermath.
For in its embrace, we all will lie.
That shines on those who love and try.
And face death's call with courage and grace.
But how we lived that sets our souls ablaze.
Echo through streets and homes, far and near.
Innocent lives they take, without a care,
Leaving behind loved ones in deep despair.
But in the hands of tyrants, they arise.
With each shot fired, another soul departs,
As broken families grieve with broken hearts.
But now we're trapped in a cycle, resentful.
Let us strive for peace and disarmament,
So our children live, safe and contented.
It strips away wealth and fame and pride,
No being can escape its icy grip,
But in death's darkness, there is a light,
So let us live each day as if it's last,
For in the end, it's not the length of life,
Guns, the instruments of death and fear,
Their cold and ruthless power, we despise,
Guns, we wish they'd never been invented.
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