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The Black Death

The Black Death
Marching through your body
Marching through your soul

All consuming pain
Marching through your town
Marching through your world

Black spots on everyone
Bodies in their beds
Bodies in their chairs

The awful decaying smell
Bodies in the streets
Bodies in the cars

No living thing anywhere
No sound from the phone
No sound from the stereo

Laid down, silent as the grave
No sound on the sidewalks
No sound on the road

Devastated and decaying place
Crumbling building
Crumbling cars

The Black Death nods
Crumbling walkways
Crumbling cemeteries

The Black Death walks away
All has gone away
All has been done.

    I plan to revise this poem: please leave constructive criticism!
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Comments


  • FlameHeart88
    December 16, 2008

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    Wow.

    Wonderful. Simply wonderful. Excellent use of language, and you made a good choice concerning the style of the poem.