Dark Poems About Death Novels & Stories

I was certain that I knew this one and leaned towards Rai. "A death God is nearing, we should introduce ourselves," I mumbled softly and prepared to stand. My eyes began to glow at the numerous Kasa-obake (ghosts) that were coming out of the forest. My mother perked up instantly and watched each spirit with a curious gaze. The Death God followed, its red eyes darted around the area. The dark creature had brought its mate with him and the pair approached Rai and I in deep black wispy tendrils. I told Rai to change into Grim as I changed into my black Death mist. I noticed my mother had changed as well and was coming to our sides, my father and his lady friend were nowhere to be seen making me

Life couldn’t have been better. Despite that, I couldn’t help but wonder what the rest of the Duttons were up to. I knew that as long as they didn’t find a body, they wouldn’t declare a death. This led to endless speculation in society about whether the two of us were truly dead. Rumors and gossip spread everywhere, but I remained unmoved. Every day, I soaked up the sun, watched handsome men by the sea, and lived a life of pure indulgence. After half a year, though, I started to get a little bored.

The pain, it overcame all my senses. It pressed against my chest. It pulsed. Darkness started to take over. It was so painful. I never thought it would be this much painful. They say when you die, your whole life flash before your eyes. But I only saw...I only saw her. I tried to keep my eyes opened but I couldn't. I couldn't. I saw her, but she was so young. I was young too. She ran toward me, her small figure tried to reach for me and she wrapped her arms around my neck and hugged me.

I'm sorry to say, but today is your death day The air is thick with rot and decay Your blood will paint the cold, cracked floor Dripping like echoes from the hands before Whispers crawl from the cracks in the wall Laughter distorts a sickening call The lights flicker, the shadows Bend This isn't a dream; this is the end Run, run, but your feet won't move The darkness wraps its chains around you A sick grin forms in the blackest shade Time runs out and so will your veins A lullaby hums in a voice not your own Sung from the mouths of the buried and dead A faceless thing grins in the wide doorway Stretching its arms, your escort inside Your name is etched on a tomb with no grave A jagged whispe

Old wolves wept, their tears falling on the stone floor, their weathered faces lifted toward the light. "But the war is not over," I said, and the cheering stopped. The silence was immediate, heavy, expectant. Every eye was on me. "The king is dead. The shadow is gone. The darkness is silent. But it is only sleeping. It has slept before. It has always woken. One day, it will wake again. That is the nature of darkness. It does not die. It only waits. It only watches. It only hungers." The pack was silent. The flames crackled. I saw fear in some eyes, defiance in others, hope in a few. A young pup in the back of the hall began to cry, and its mother hushed it, rocking it gently.

The red soil was flowing like water of the gestures of cries, folk of crow waiting for its turn to hunt, yet no help, helpless and hopeless faces, the laughs of hunters, they hunted the soul and let the carcasses turn into what it was made up of. The fire was rapidly eating one by one, one after one houses of poors. The dark was coming as the light was going dim eventually. Roars of the monsters giving goosebumps to the dead, the cart of sorrows was taking an unusual load of worthless hollow corpses, out of time, out of chances, out of what's unreachable, out of words, out of ways, out of land, out of sky, out of day, out of night, out of life into the death.

Sky says as she jesters with her hands to me. I took a couple of deep breaths before I began to read my poem out loud. Gathering my nerves before I speak. Lifeless Lost and alone left empty without a home. Watching as the wind blows, chattering through hollow bones. Words are nothing but a sound cracking and breaking with each bound. A girl once set to sore left with oozing pores, born in a world torn in two. Amber eyes stare into the starry skies, locks of blonde hair ripped from a head now bare. A face that once held so much grace, revealing split flesh tattered like mesh. Words are nothing but a sound cracking and breaking with each bound. Tears shed out of so many fears, crying in the da

I died unloved. I lived unloved. And in the end, they divided my belongings before my body was cold. It was all for nothing. The darkness swallows me. And I let it. Because dying is easier than accepting the truth: I wasted my entire life. And I can never get it back. --- Cold. Dark. Nothing. I float in void. No body. No pain. No thoughts beyond the terrible clarity that this is death. This is what comes after. Nothing. Just... nothing.

Like a flower that loses its beauty; so is the present that is happening to the whole country. Darkness forces beauty to mourn, darkening the happy atmosphere without being prevented. Gloom, that's all that's left. An eclipse comes between freezing snows. However, it actually lasted longer in retaliation for the delay. They said the darkness was created by a child. Dark and terrible poems about it began to surface. The girl fell like drops of rain from above the horror. She stood like a haughty tower in the distance. She limped in a gray cloud, like dawn breathing death.

Were they afraid I might fall to my death, or were they hoping for it? I was certain it was the latter. I spread my arms wide and with my eyes turning red, I opened my mouth, allowing the winds to carry my words to them down below Let it rain, hail and brimstone, My dead bones has risen, I’ve returned, the unforgiven dead. By ash and bone, by blood and blight, I call the darkness to take its bite. Let sickness rot their flesh and breath, Let every dawn bring closer death. Let fever scorch their brittle veins,