Dear: the Reaper
Master of time,
Master of death,
You were once both,
and I creeped as your shadow.
Now your blood drips from my fingers,
blood worthy of hallow,
while you lie lifelessly dead.
Time has no master
and neither does death,
when I burn down the world,
and oblivion next!
Burn! Burn ever so faster.
Fire, bring death to disaster.
Copyright © Rafael Romasanta | Year Posted 2012
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