The Reaper

Built upon another titled, "Death"

His mouth curled into a septic sigh,

Inhaled the screams and found his high,

And in his manic glee he sang,

A wide grin, his voice it rang:

"I am the center of religion,

The center of frustration.

The sanctity of lonely hearts,

The draw between a wicked start.

The wars between people caught,

The end to what birth has brought.

In any way remains the same,

In every day, is death."

My disbelief most obvious,

Reflected in his cracked-lip smile.

Mr.Grimm, my own wither-reaper,

Finds his high in grand revile.

He patrols the moon-land,

Seeking solace from the day;

A non-discriminate prowler,

But looks down 'pon those who pray.

"In the end," he tells me

"We are all the same."
"No wholeness and no riches,
No paradise, no fame."

Reviews

[azeez lawal akorede]

nice writing

[kelseyalexrose]

Thank you!