Oh pale rider,
I lay wondering in slumbers wake
To what beseeches unto you,
such a horrid fate

Is your path a lonesome one?
Have you had loves warm embrace?
Or are you forced to carry
the sins, only you dare to face.

O' fields tended by fragile hands,
Harvested in both day and night;
With no rest, nor break of leave
Ode to your own plight.

Though your deeds go noticed,
They are associated with fear.
The hatred that results of this,
seems to much to bear.

For who could love such a shadow,
a figure that takes loved ones away?
Many shout curses to you,
and whoever speaks your name.

Though they fear your gift,
birthed in the unknown.
My heart goes out to you,
my empathy I do show.

For if there is no love for you,
then I sincerely offer mine.
If to only witness,
the passing's of your time.

I hope my words reach you
As I shout them from my lungs.
I hope you know that even,
The Reaper... can be loved.