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.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
