Tom Gambit Poems

I wonder if Death ever fears death
Or does he just waltz through his version of life
Death is his Life…
Life is our Death…
...

And there I lay, my head alongside my pillow
Wandering off I began to ascend at that moment
Flying absently towards the wispy, graying clouds
I passed through them with ease
...

I saw her again, that lovely female whom I'd only admire from afar
She has to be the last divine girl out there; perfection isn't perfect enough
Because perfection cannot begin to describe her
She was more
...