How I Would Paint Death

She was the rock, house of no foundation.
Lonely, empty when she was not there.
No one to talk to when you are in pain,
no one there to call your name.
Death feels as though there is
only darkness when your eyes are open.
Nothing is in motion, only thoughts to be focused.
In a hole, with no light to
shine as a guide, lost by sight.
A good day that turns bad
in a matter of minutes. A figure
trapped in a box and the light that
you once saw now is the dark.

I would paint your soul exploding from
your human body and as you
fly away building new armor.
A new being with a voice in your head
telling you what just happened.
And there is no return; you will go on
every time you die and there is
nothing but eternity.
A huge black hole,
everlasting in space,
getting wider and wider.
An all-white background with
blood red splattered across.
A promise ring that everyone wears.

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