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Oh wandering soul
What is your goal?
Why do you endlessly patrol?
Go to your peace
Death's sweet release
You have pried enough in the present
Go to where things are pleasant
For you have died
I am here, your guide
Jasmine Reid Mar 10
Proudly he handles the bottle, bellowing about her as if she were a person

She's not fine wine, she's aged wine.
kept in the dark; alone with her thoughts
low in the earth; like a corpse
and given all the time in the world to ferment; she's rotting

Her glass is smooth you see, and cool to the touch; like the pavement on which she fell
The curves are unique to every bottle; her carcass so pretty
And the deepest green you'll ever see on a bottle; like her eyes

I have preserved her so! To keep her how she should be!
that's how he wanted to see me

She has aged well, for almost 20 years you see.
still as young as ever

But this is a special occasion; they found me
Go fetch some glasses; I can hear them digging
And we'll celebrate her.
what happened in this story?
Jasmine Reid Mar 10
Crackling cancer, the glimmer of light
mixed with the fog
I see him beckoning, calling out in that morning smoke
He's waiting for me.
Pt.1 Reaper
Maniacal Escape Jul 2020
Holding hands with the Friendly Reaper.
I feel it, the grip, the warmth, the care.
It cares, he cares, she cares.
Sickening shiny scythe.
That cares cuts.
So I keep on pretending,
That the warmth is warm.
That the metal is gentle.
That the grip is comforting.
Hiding my face from myself.
Averting my eyes from that panicked stare.
That terror, that glances at the joined hands and back at me.
I embrace the reaper and his scythe.
Cut and reshape me. Just don't let me go.
Make the face in the mirror go away.
I'd help him if I could but I can't so just get rid of him.
Hold me close I need you to cut me and care for me.
Michelle Cronin Jul 2020
It’s true you live you die,
And in-betweens there is life.

Some happy some sad,
Some good some bad.
Sometimes uplifting and glorious in your life
Sometimes dark and soul destroying.

Time does not go on,
when I am abroad.
Collecting souls of the listed names.

Name, title, wealth nor education matter,
when the strings of life are cut.
When your time is up its up.

No bargains to be struck or deals to be done,
Life just stops dead.
The end.

What you say, so short a life I need more time
To amass more wealth or power.
Alas it is not so for all you do
Is grab and take.

You seldom care or look or listen.
To the world you hurt, you miss her dying,
in your haste you do not see her cries of pain.
So few see what most are missing.

Take care of her for I may reap your soul,
but as I walk through out your land,
you must by now know that you're the ones,
who **** your land, sea the air you breath.

Through greed and power, into the mire of wanton destruction.
Most will not know what they had until it’s gone.
A few good men and women try.
Try while your world cries out for help.

Still I walk through this land, collecting the souls
of a few good men and women for as I have said
when your time is up its up and my book grows
thinner by the hour.
How the reaper see the care we take of our life and planet.
James May 2020
The essence of life grows from within its roots
It gives life to those around it
as it gives air to those that will one day destroy it
Forever misunderstood, under appreciated, undervalued.
How can you **** that which gives life
How can you **** the mother to your own children.
Siding with the reaper in the war of life and death
This isn't a test, you don't pass or fail
But you do eat the fruit in which you bear
As you see yourself in the reaper's blade
Is that last breathe one of satisfaction or regret?
Fulfilment or exhaustion?
Did you fight for life or beg for death.
Candace Apr 2020
And there lay his body,
In a pristine coffin,
Ready for the funeral service
The room is full of loved ones,
The people who gave him life
They gather
waiting for any more guests,
Unaware that the most important one is already here

The grim reaper is here with his sythe
Ready to bring this man's soul
to the next life

But as he looks at the man
He weeps
He cries, for the reaper never wanted this job
He never wanted to be
In between life and death
He never wanted to be the one to guide tortured souls,
to see their pain
and then have to send them
to heaven or hell

The reaper cries too
He cries for the souls who never got to finish their life
He cries for the mothers, fathers, children, uncles, sisters
He cries for what they left behind

For fate is cruel
And no one decides
when their time stops
The reaper cries,
the rivers and rain fill with sorrow
The reaper cries
And the sea feels his pain

But when people think of him,
They blame him for taking their loved ones
They cry and mourn
Unaware that
The reaper cries too
Amanda Kay Burke Mar 2020
Be not scared of death
Growing slowly with old age
The simplest blessing
TIZZOP Feb 2020
there's a hidden man
he a fan of mirrors
his first name be terror

see this hidden man be
like writer's block and white paper
like planes in skyscrapers

there's a hidden man
skin made of cobweb: an-other
no friend sis or brother

there's a hidden man
wenn er dich packt: renn!
there is a hidden man

he a cheerleader who
became the grim reaper
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