The Reaper

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
I dont have a real title for it, just using this one for now,and found that i was just writing endlessly till i came up with this.Enjoy.

Submitted: February 28, 2007

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Submitted: February 28, 2007

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A chainsaw cranks in the heat of day
Boulders of unsighlty dirt gather together
There is hot sticky mess the sun has left
and all the while laughter pierces the hollow of my ear

A crisp material falls upon my face
A soft cushion breaks her fall and awakens her untimely death
The sound of darkness approching
Listening closely to it's call

The woman does not of what is yet to come
As she sits waiting on what would appear a friend
The darkness leans closer and devours her soul
Rembering the endless laughter, till

A star indicates the break of night
I lead the way to my shady quarter
Were terror and fear is induced in one shift.


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