A Grip Colder

I’ll not be spiteful,
no superman now.
Those years gone
I dig deeper down.
At the crux a soul
an asp bit me there.
I no longer a child,
distastes I’m aware.
The cold scratches
up seasoned spine.
I’ve felt age touch
and hands of time.
I find me in shadow
that reflects aspect.
It partakes curious
tone I must respect.
I’m in a void time
it beckons me tire.
In the creases my
ache it is so mired.
Is there a beyond a
place I look down
where I can see my
trinkets I’d found?
I cast a question I
a being would let
me quiz for awhile
portions some get.
Paradise if there is
or if there is not I
see the screams of
hurt rise to the sky.
An angel amongst
me if there is one
it has seen the worst
of a soul be undone.
Oh Angel of death
you’re near shoulder.
As time grasps me
I feel a grip colder.

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