As the clock struck nine

I seance her now my death in a box

creeping up behind, of memories and lost time.

As the clock struck nine.

I know I have time.

I see her now lying in her box of broken time.

Death approaches so silently and without a breath;

she chimes in with a voice of concern.

I know she can hear me.

Death she is my beauty of the night.

My death ready to come and take me.

But with a ting I wake,

and with my breath returning.

She was nothing but a whisper in my dreams,

a low voice that I can no longer hear.

She left without a breath in my ear.

I mess my sweet death.

She kept me so near

I saw her lying in her box

nothing but messing time.

As the clock struck nine.

About Amanda Shelton

I write, and I do digital art. My life is never too boring, I think too much for my life to be nothing but interesting. I always put myself into my writing, so if you want to know how I think then just read my poetry, and short stories. Also I am brutally honest, and I love everyone unconditionally. No one is a stranger to me, I will treat you like I treat everyone else, like family.
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