no longer to mourn for contest

Written by: Seren Roberts

I am a painted doll with a mean looking face
I prey on your mind of love there’s no trace
An hour glass in hand I tell you it’s time
When the sands run down your time to die
You ask me, why is it me, why am I to die
I say it’s because you are sad you do not try
Your always write sad rhymes no joy in your life
Better you die no longer to mourn
Better off dead should never been born
She spies the spindle ready to strike
Grabbed it and killed me
The lone reaper no more, 
                  this time, I die.