The Reaper Is Waiting!

The Reaper Is Waiting! short poem

Photo by KylaBorg

As mom lays me down to sleep.
I Don’t pray to god because me he cant keep.
I fear the shadow and ice cold reap.

For he is here to take my hand.
I will not live to become a man.

He stands there in the dark at my feet,
waiting to hear my last heartbeat.

He looks sad & cold, hidden in his hood.
He reaks a smell of old cold blood!

As I take this last breath of mine,
I can feel all the love that was left behind.

For it is time for me to sleep.
I can feel it now…. my last heartbeat.

Confirming I’m gone he moves in close,
then out of my body my soul arose.

Behind his back he pulls from his tote,
My very own small black cloak

He kneels down & hands me my scythe,
Now I know what’s after life.

I have no family and have no keeper,
For it is my time to become the Reaper.

Do not miss me and do not weep,
because someday soon your souls I will seek!

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