It's Death again, He's always there;
Watching, waiting... e'er the stare!
Every time I look behind,
Or reach to pull the window blind,
I catch a glimpse of grubby hood
A little clue to where he stood;
The glint of light that caught the scythe.
Perhaps if I could pay a tithe,
But O! No use, he'll never go!
The adamant phantom; don't you know?
He will but wait until it's time
For me to hear His fateful chime.
The toll that claims my destiny,
To Hail: 'You're next, it has to be..."
[ by: ☨ ]
December 6, 2013 at 19:14