A Loathed Profession

I tapped on every door to gave them their news, some wailed, some yelled, some even thought it was only the muse, Some who even know I was arriving, blow up their fuse, Because my revelation was not to be amuse, Some moved away or even hide them shoes, but, nowhere to go because I predict your every moves, I can do this for eternal, my time was nothing to lose, Because once I knocked, you’ll be out of your blues. But this one visit really test my wonder, I was doing my job as normal as ever, tapped on the door to gave this person, the shiver, Opened, and there was a grim man, weak and quiver, He asked me to join, before I could deliver, Its like he knew about my arrival, so thats why he accepted, I figure, His eyes were dead, they couldn’t be from a giver, He then said, he knew why I exist and appear. The house was dark, ugly and poor, what was more annoying was his answer before, How could he have guessed, about my job at the door, He is more mysterious than me, I pondered some more, This old man was frailed, crippled and sore, His skins were crummy, like he did a recent tore, We didn’t utter a single word but doing good at ignore We just looked at each other, right to the center of our core. I was trying to do my work in complete stealth, Because I knew this wasn’t to good for his health, I leaned towards and tried drew out words from my sheath, He stopped me before I could perform my hath, He looked like he was addicted to stimulants, opiums or meths, He looked at me and said from his last wealth, He sucked in a long deep breath, and said “I have prolonged for this fate, so please do it quickly, oh Death.”