From Death's Embrace
life's efforts, in vain they shattered
velvet cloaks of crimson tattered
alone in darkness, they never mattered
blades glisten, the sad eyes they flattered
hand out-stretched, he stood alone
fingers gleamed white of bone
eerie whispers of prayers unknown
no actions friends of God would condone
leaning in with scythe in hand
hollowed eyes of black depths command
veins bled dry making stand
against the embrace of Death's demand
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