Dead poem from yws

This is a poem I wrote a  while ago titled "Dead." I post it in a page because it is not
really relavent to my blog focus. I do want my stories and poems to have more exposure though,
so you may critique away.

Wind and Rain
Always falling
People running
Never calling 

Chilly heat
An even death
"Who is there?"
With his last breath. 

He called aloud,
Fear of Pain
Watching Blood
Fall like rain. 

Neither quick
nor neither slow,
Death draws near,
In his hand a bow. 

"Bow To Death,
You Need Not Fear.
I Shall Bring To You
What You Hold Most Dear." 

The man shakes,
The blood almost gone.
His thoughts depleting,
It's nearly done. 

But then a light
Showed through the dark
But the man made no remark. 

Death had already consumed him.

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