The Reaper

I try to look into the eyes of the hooded figure before me.

Blackness is all I can see.

He turns, and motions for me to follow.

This blackness makes me feel so hollow.

If I go with him, the pain will stop.

Over the bridge my body would drop.

I would no longer have to defend,

The attacks would end.

The aching sorrow,

Could not enter tomorrow.

And every tear

Could never reapear

Upon this terrified face

Whose heart used to race,

Always expecting the worst

For once I'd be put first

As the reaper waits for my decision,

I wonder how he ever got his position.

Did he ever walk this Earth?

Was his soul then thrown into death's hearth?

I I look at him once more

My feelings have changed from before.

I shake my head

Today I am not dead.

Today this soul is not yours to reap

Today I shall not leap

To the death that can wait

Until a later date.

Because today the reaper will let me be,

So I can begin the fight to becoming free.

 

May 22, 2011

Reviews

[Douglas Keppol]

I particularly like the rhythm of this poem. It flows very well, and the rhyming doesn't take away from the poem in terms of vocabulary as it sometimes does.