Grim, the Reaper by Guadalupe Gonzales

He does not eat he does not sleep for this he has been wrought
To go about the earth each day to claim those that are sought
He plows his sickle through the earth and with one tearing sweep
He rids the earth of those whose time has come for him to meet

The carnage and the havoc that he does leave in his wake
And if your name is on his list for you there's no escape
His realm is all lands high and low the waters and the sea
And when he passes all that's left is grief and misery

You don't know when he comes or goes for no one can forsee
And when there is a lapse in time with no great tragedy
You can be sure that he's not far, be it, you or me
And while consumed still in this write, a movement next to me

As I look up from where I sit a shrouded shadow stands
His sickle gleasoning in the dark a slaughter is at hand
And as I try to run away I hear a thunderous slash
And as a twig is snapped in two so are my bones now bashed

My body buckles to the floor, my life now fleeing me
And as the blackness now enfolds me I can faintly see
He places now a parchment paper next to my dazed head
The seal is broken, it's a deed, Title Holder of the Dead.

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