Oh mysterious one, hidden by life
Will you not spare my dear one, my brother?
Choose me, oh Death, instead of another.
Do you not understand I cause this strife?
It is I, your judge, begging for thine knife
I will sign his contract. My name, no other
Will know you as I do – my life, smothered
In the place of his, I pick up death’s fife.

Do not fret; your day comes after his time
Has ended; naught you can do now but wait
For the Scythe to find thine own mortal thread.
Until said severance ends this sad rhyme,
Do not think about the sisters three: Fate.
Live without your brother; he rests his head.