Death is a mysterious thing.

You always know to expect it

but when it comes for you,

You never quite accept it.

So when the red woman came for me,

Her way one of life.

I decided to feel her presence,

Wether or not the time was right.

She strode past the bloody green,

I didn’t move an inch.

Her face was hidden in a cloak,

I haven’t forgotten since.

When she reached my figure,

The bloody path...

His eyes were grey not blue,

It took her years to understand

At Dawn it had been colored,

At noon she couldn’t play pretend.

She had wondered long,

If this would be her destiny.

It’d always been her song,

First two then kids -a family.

Excitement once alive,

Had long since burned to ash.

Nothing left but _peace,_

__

How could she quitely pass?

Forever she had told herself,

The dream was peace...