Tuesday, January 16, 2007

The Grim Reaper

A long black robe reaching the ground
A hood hides a face so proud
Staring ahead with soulless eyes
Without emotion without care
Darkness follows his every step
And all where his shadow falls
Life whither like leaves in fall

A skeletal hand holds a scythe
Its blade curved in an evil grin
Waiting patiently until the time is right
To proudly serve its master’s request
He roams the earth
Watching and Waiting
Until the sands of time run out
And finally when there is no more
The blade of silver will do its work
To sever the bonds of life
And grant the freedom they yearn

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