Life Goes On

His face: chalk-white, pale as death
into whose clutches he willingly walks.
His eyes, unseeing, stare into Heaven
and his mouth moves as he tries to talk.
But life goes on...

His body: more beautiful now than ever,
its broken form a work of art,
and slowly, slowly, slowly still
decreases the rate of his weary heart.
But life goes on...

The air is thick with pain and death.
His breaths come slower still.
The room is filled with trembling grief
And his chest falls finally still.
But life goes on...

Outside the room, death has not walked.
Though one son is dead, others live.
Though the room is black, colour remains;
There are people left with lives to give.
So life goes on...

Author's Note

I wrote this a while ago, but I just came back and did an edit. It's supposed to be a sort of war poem.

Reviews

[Undying Glory]

war poem you say? yeah, it fits. though i must admit that the person in the poem will probably wish for death...haha. anyway its good...nice