Death,
Comes slowly at first,
Riding a ******* steed.
The night,
The darkness,
Stringing sickness about.
Beckoning him to your door;
Giving him free reign.

He will come for you,
For your soul,
Your heart.
Leaving only pain.

For those around you,
It is but a silent whim.
Whisking away
A loved one;
Carrying you higher into the Heavens,
To face your judgement

Be it by gas,
Or blade,
Be it by a method unseen.
His horse will come,
And ridden by Greed
For death has been slain
By a Sin unbeknownst