Poems About Death

black

The eyes which rest amongst these
Distorted features- blackened by the sun
They seek the great unbroken death
Upon this wavering plane of dying nature,
They seek the fleeting colours
Seldom discerned by such watching eyes;
As colours are so scarce in a world so dead.
Eyes which espy the darkened crevices
Of the ocean below, the vast and open skies
Which host stars so forgettable,
Stars so blurred- for all that can be perceived 
Is the looming black of the sky,
And how it seems like charcoal;
Unhallowed in an hour of twisted ambience,
Where nature is so far to death.
Oh how it sinks beneath the ground-
Growing inwards as the roots of a tree
Strive to explore the hells below.
Flowers and nature they turn to black;
It always so black
This night, this cold and sickening time of night.
When the petals fall and the flowers wilt
They rot amongst the blackening skies
Where stars shall not let them bloom,
For nothing may bloom in a world so dead,
So dead as winter lives
Though much further from amber;
More like grey to weary eyes,
Eyes are so weary in the twilight,
Where the lingering light in the sky
Soon twists to black,
The very way that all else twists to black
As everything shall,
Someday.
For hours the twilight stays unbroken,
Until midnight comes along,
Then from lurking eyes that flutter
Through the dimensions of the world,
A peculiar dawn creeps into vision,
It settles within the sky,
Yet it's colours are still so lost;
To the eye, always so lost,
So scarce to behold- for eyes may only see black;
The back of eyelids are always black.
For now, despite the beautiful wave of dawn-
Seemingly unbroken in its beauty-
All the weary eyes may see is black;
I is all that may exist,
All which may prevail
In such a sinister, shallow world
No,
Only black before the eye;
So dark like an endless stream
Of the ash, the coal that lies in hells,
Where broken children lie.
What is burnt to bring such ash
To ones conscience, to ones watching eye?
Ash so blackened,
It is all that may be seen,
It asphyxiates and smothers ones lungs
And settles upon the film of ones eye
Till again, all beheld is black.