Face of Death

As the Reaper creeps,
The frostbite climbs,
It's flesshless fingers
Grasping its razor sharp scythe
It's feet crunching the withered yellow grass,
The rattling intake of breath,
The sunken cheeks and the hollowed eyes,
That is the face of Death.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

i'd say short and sweet, short it is, but its not that sweet..

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noir_oiseau's picture

this reminds me of

this reminds me of dementors....:D.....love ya!!!

"What is this world but a dream that a sleeper sees - he delights in it for a few moments, and then wakes up to face reality"