What looms beyond the trees—a monster black.


I see his visage clear, and hear its moan.


I wait to feel the claws upon my back,


Then wrap around my neck intent to choke.


No choice to run or fight—it’s soon too late.


The monster barrels near, I feel its breath.


No Hope remains. I am a slave to fate.


The end is near I know—a vicious death.


But then a welcome sight I see appear,


The Conqueror of Death who calls my name.


With weapons primed, he slays that beast of fear.


My chains, he breaks, and then I hear Him say,  


“No wraith, nor foe shall keep your life controlled.

For I already paid the price for souls.”

This poem is about: 


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741