Rust
on an old, silver bell.
It grew old, surely,
and the people dreaded its echo,
for it signified the presence of death.

"Who shall be taken by the Reaper?" they asked.
"Who shall suffer his wrath?"

Until the Reaper appeared, a dreary night it was,
to take Timothy McLaggen down death's path.

The people thought,
"The boy is too pure! You shan't take him whilst we breathe!"
"The boy is too good! You shan't show him what is under your malicious hood!"

But the Reaper took the boy with ease.

He was unhappy, you see
and needed to leave,
and he felt as though the Reaper
had set him free.