The Reaper (a poem)

He seeks you out when your time has come,
Slithering towards you like a begging bum,
No matter how you hide,
He feels the fear inside,
and feeds upon your life,
Drawing and consuming all your strife,
He intensifies your pain,
As if it was all a game,
His sickle in his hand,
And his body floating above land,
He reaps your soul out of your body and leaves the shell to rotten,
And the he takes it for a ride upon his trail of bones forgotten,
And to the place you hated most in the world,
And leaves your soul to spin and twirl,
upon the land to haunt,
A task you couldn't daunt,
As a fiend to torture the living,
never seen by the giving,
And makes the evil fear for their lives,
And still your spirit strives,
To end this torture from him,
The torture of seeing the grim......

THE END