The Grim Reaper

The dreary equalizer of all,
Who meets short and tall,
Who doesn’t care if you’re younger
O(r elder, He’s the Grim Reaper.

With thy finger so cold and scaly,
Oh great old one, I bow down to thee,
For you have visited me once before,
But alas, you couldn’t take my soul.

You can not kill what is already dead,
And death is all I have inside my head.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2006

Poem

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