Won’t the grim reaper get sad?
When he takes the souls of the miscreants?
While he rips away lives
even when they are too young to be born.
Will he shed tears like the rest of us?
Weeping for the one so loved.
while his whole life is taken away
without a second’s thought.
The sheen drains from their eyes
and the sad reaper sobs.
Drenching the hearth,
putting off the spiraling fire.
Maybe the deadly too mourns
in the shadows of it all.
His snarl may turn to a grimace
when we look away for a second.
The vulnerability might seep through the façade.
Even the cruelest crumble at the feet of the fate.
With no running away from reality;
coerced to stay and burn alive
while the wailing souls look away
from the same sight of another
afflicting the gentle heart
his trembling scythe takes thousands at once
barely, we have our wind up
maybe he isn’t as cruel as he seems
maybe he weeps on his knees
with the keen blaring through his ears
for all of us sinners to turn.
turn into something we’re not
so the lives he take doesn’t wear him down
many bear the weight of our transgressions
for no one mentions the terrible things in our eulogy.
and yet the reaper mourns
over the loss of another convict.
~si
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PoetryM O N A C H O P S I S the persistent feeling that you're out of place or don't belong. A collection of poems.
