ReaperA Poem by Spider JerusalemFrom
the corner of your apartment made out
of cigarette butts, dirty clothes and expired
canned beans he
watches you every single night
Patience
of a fisherman Firm
hands as a golfer A
smile that blows more terror than
his rusty scythe that soaked
with blood of the sinners
He’s
been lurking behind me for Zeus knows how long I
couldn’t seem to unlock the door to smash
the crap out of the hooded pile of bones with Had no
other door, I decided to face him
Looked
him in the empty eye socket and
told him I didn’t remember calling
any death for hire
He
laughed and laughed He
told me I didn’t"-he’s been with me since I
came out of my mother’s womb
I just
haven’t rang the special bell yet
That
was the night the reaper reminded me one thing: Everybody
has guns pointed at their heads and
they are the ones who capable of
pulling the trigger © 2014 Spider Jerusalem |
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Added on May 17, 2014 Last Updated on May 17, 2014 Author
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