Book O' Poems

Reaper Of Souls

The lurking of a shadow marks the start of dawn,

From dusk the darkness comes and falls upon,

The unlucky few who've been overwhelmed with grief,

Will soon become the victims of the lonely thief,

Your heart has been poisoned with the venomous sorrow,

And one slice of the blade sets the pain for tomorrow.

With the sun set and doors and windows closed,

Here comes the myth of a thief with his name eternally enclosed,

Some call him the reaper of death or reaper of souls,

But such knowledge of his name is forever unknown.

With the swing of a blade or the shot of a gun,

Another thousand lay their lives for the bloodthirsty lonely one,

Because of broken homes and abuse forming hearts to coal,

Many generations of warriors fall to the Reaper of Souls.

Blessed be the ones who've only experienced the cold night,

For their sunlight filled home waits patiently forever in flight.

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