The Angel of death
is free at night.
Her large feathered wings
straightened out in flight.
Black as coal,
she blends into the sky
picking out
who's next to die.
Like a whisper
she passes by,
sending a shiver
down your spine.
You can't see her
until it's your time,
when you have reached
the end of your line.

She will appear
next to you,
patiently waiting
for her cue.
She'll lean in close,
you can feel her breath.
Her lips pressed to yours,
the kiss of death.
The last thing you'll see
is her vapid eyes
as the last light in you
takes to the skies.
She'll escort your soul
to heaven or hell,
leaving your body
as an empty shell.