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alex-benacPoems
- I - I am Death and I am sorry. Sorry that I robbed you of your youth your vigor and your vitality. I am sorry that I gave you days and months and years of black days and months and years better spent under the sun dancing in the rain prancing in the snow. I am sorry that I robbed you of your very first love your child, your sister your mother or father your one care in the world. I am sorry that I took away those things that were the light of your life the salt of your earth whether those be tangible or intangible. I am sorry for all this and more. - II - But this is what I do. This is the burden that Fate and Destiny have placed upon my shoulders. This is the task that has been assigned to me by the cosmos. The universe needs a Reaper a Soul-Harvester a Life-Taker and that’s me. Death. It is my unfortunate task to remind you – man, woman and child that you are not invincible. I am an omnipresent reminder of your own mortality an ever-present red ribbon tied around your finger. Believe me when I tell you that I enjoy it very little and detest it very much. That I should be the one who coaxes your tears from your eyes burns my soul – MY soul. Yes, I have one, too however hardened it may be after all these years. That I should have to swoop in to your homes, your hospital wards, your cars, barge in on your meals, your vacations, your special time with loved ones is, to me, awful, a sin. Me stealing from you those years, people and other things from you is vagrancy, indecency, criminal. Nothing less. - III - I, Death, am a vagabond. A cold hearted ******* A demon borne in the fiery pits of Hell. I am cruel, calculating and ruthless with impeccable timing, I know it. I know it, and yet I have not the heart to give up what I do. It is the only thing I know. But every day that I do it is a day where my heart aches. My heart aches and it has for some time now. It is a pain of which I shall never be rid. I am sure of it. Would you believe me if I told you that I listen to your pleas? Your moaning, your agonized begging, your take-me-not-hers, your why-him-not-me’s fall on ears. Attentive ones listening ones. I promise you, I hear you, and I hold your hearts in my hands. But I just cannot give you what they seek. It would be unfair. Me letting your brother live and not his would be unbalanced, unnatural unseemly, unprofessional. Mercy defeats the purpose of death. Mercy defeats the purpose of me and I hate it but it is so and that is that. - IV - I am Death. I am black I am dark I am night. I know your secrets, your darkest ones. I know what you desire to know. When you shall die. I know it. You all shall die. I know it. You know it. And that scares you. You are all afraid of me. Do not lie. I know it. It’s true. You all think you are doomed. You think you are doomed? You are doomed to succumb to death? I am doomed to be death. I am sorry but I am Death.
0
Sep 20, 2011
Sep 20, 2011 at 7:31 PM UTC
Death
- I - I am Death and I am sorry. Sorry that I robbed you of your youth your vigor and your vitality. I am sorry that I gave you days and months and years of black days and months and years better spent under the sun dancing in the rain prancing in the snow. I am sorry that I robbed you of your very first love your child, your sister your mother or father your one care in the world. I am sorry that I took away those things that were the light of your life the salt of your earth whether those be tangible or intangible. I am sorry for all this and more. - II - But this is what I do. This is the burden that Fate and Destiny have placed upon my shoulders. This is the task that has been assigned to me by the cosmos. The universe needs a Reaper a Soul-Harvester a Life-Taker and that’s me. Death. It is my unfortunate task to remind you – man, woman and child that you are not invincible. I am an omnipresent reminder of your own mortality an ever-present red ribbon tied around your finger. Believe me when I tell you that I enjoy it very little and detest it very much. That I should be the one who coaxes your tears from your eyes burns my soul – MY soul. Yes, I have one, too however hardened it may be after all these years. That I should have to swoop in to your homes, your hospital wards, your cars, barge in on your meals, your vacations, your special time with loved ones is, to me, awful, a sin. Me stealing from you those years, people and other things from you is vagrancy, indecency, criminal. Nothing less. - III - I, Death, am a vagabond. A cold hearted ******* A demon borne in the fiery pits of Hell. I am cruel, calculating and ruthless with impeccable timing, I know it. I know it, and yet I have not the heart to give up what I do. It is the only thing I know. But every day that I do it is a day where my heart aches. My heart aches and it has for some time now. It is a pain of which I shall never be rid. I am sure of it. Would you believe me if I told you that I listen to your pleas? Your moaning, your agonized begging, your take-me-not-hers, your why-him-not-me’s fall on ears. Attentive ones listening ones. I promise you, I hear you, and I hold your hearts in my hands. But I just cannot give you what they seek. It would be unfair. Me letting your brother live and not his would be unbalanced, unnatural unseemly, unprofessional. Mercy defeats the purpose of death. Mercy defeats the purpose of me and I hate it but it is so and that is that. - IV - I am Death. I am black I am dark I am night. I know your secrets, your darkest ones. I know what you desire to know. When you shall die. I know it. You all shall die. I know it. You know it. And that scares you. You are all afraid of me. Do not lie. I know it. It’s true. You all think you are doomed. You think you are doomed? You are doomed to succumb to death? I am doomed to be death. I am sorry but I am Death.
alex-benac
Written by
alex-benac
Canadian
Sep 20, 2011
Sep 20, 2011 at 7:31 PM UTC
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