I am the spark of life pure,
And I am death as you do know for sure,
May your argument be hastily rend,
Likewise, my old friend,
Speak not of friendship, fiend,
Your patience so demeaned,
I've grown tired of your face,
A pity, for your steps I do always trace,
I know too well your taint,
You are still so very quaint,
Enough of this, let us begin,
At last we are akin,
YOU ARE READING
The Eternal Dispute
PoetryWhen life and death take on form, at last they meet. These are the woven banters of life and death. Come, take a seat, and gaze into The Eternal Dispute...
