A white man on his ivory horse
Knock, knock, knocks on your doorstep
He is a gentleman, but his patience is short
Without permission he'll walk in to take your breath
He means no harm, for he is not rude
It's only an occupational hazard
He won't judge you for your past as
Your soul hugs his waist atop his equine companion
Who carries you,
Draped carefully in clean yet dirtied rags,
And him,
Elegant in armor but soaked in sadness,
Around you glows a light that is about
To be engulfed by darkness
"May your soul be laid to rest"
The beautiful man you know to be your reaper
Whispers as he drops your soul
Into the depths of a heretical hell