The Reaper

Life gets freakier 
Death gets easier
I have to go
I still don't know
You reap what you sow
The grip won't let go
We came to sow the reaper

Long black robe and a skeleton face
Picture perfect time to sleep
Never wake from this eternal slumber
Nothing more for me to see
My eyes close, shut
Death comes, quick
I may be a skeleton and at least I'm skinny again.
Here I lie soiled within and my brain needs oxygen.
His majesty has greeted me
Here I am suffering
It's time to sleep.
Free roam dying
My freedom is slipping
The grip keeps tightening
Here I am hiding
Lying in waiting

His majesty's grip is tight as sh!t
Clutching pearls between his fingers
Her majesty takes a moment to slip
Her grip so tight it's tight as sh!t

Trouble came to find me
I'm waving back and smiling
Copyright © | Year Posted 2022

Poem

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