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The Reaper
I see the reaper standing above my bed
his cold breath breathing down on me
I am paralyzed in fear,
and my eyes are begging him to leave
He walks over to the door
and points his long finger at me
motioning me to come home with him
I don't want to go but it is my fate
he has swung his sickle--
this time at me
Tonight he shall feast on mine and others souls
another harvest is complete.
phil-carcione@attbi.com
Mendy this is a delightfully dark piece. I really like it. Though I suggest that if the reaper comes pointing his finger you should give him the finger back. Never go down without a fight.
~Phil~