By Julia West
It is my belief that Death gets a bad reputation He is not evil, Nor does Death take out of greed
He is just the messenger, The warning, But we refuse to listen Ignorance and arrogance cover our ears
Perhaps, he is not as cold as we think Perhaps, he takes our hand, Takes our pain, Then our breath, And guides us somewhere safe
It is not one, being that controls death He is, however, unleashed He ventures into the world only when told, Leaves pain and destruction only when asked
In the end who unleashes Death?