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Fear is the trap that confines all
Fear is holding hands with the grim reaper
It will haunt you to your grave
Taunt you in your dreams
Tie you back with the strongest rope there is and the hardest knot to escape from
Fear takes no time to find you
Takes no time to hypnotise you
Distorting your beliefs, questions are all that linger
Oscar Aug 31
in the light of life,
we hold hands
and we
close our eyes
and we
feel the blade
of the reaper ;
and we
say
"goodbye."
Julian Moses May 5
Silhouette of the reaper
Shadow of my fear
Branding me with
Thoughts of my own demise
Our fragile moth wings
Incinerate when we touch the light.
-2019
Been trying to sit down and write a poem every day. Here's today's. Good morning!
Latin Mortality

People coping carelessly,
Dissociating, crossly, staring crassly,
Stilled in fantasy and logic phallusies,
Yet time ticks and life leaks,

Money makes me more,
Under false guise of one who seeks,
Love, height, esteem, sight, seeking a dream,
Bulky bags, brimming bucks, books and buffets,

Broad, full or empty,
Doesn’t matter the stacked inventory,
It’s how the items are used,
Momento Mori,

Was your energy used efficiently?
Will you grow in elegance and prosperity?
Effortless legacies echoing down corridors of time,
What will you be remembered for?

Are you fine with what you’ve left unsaid?
Who you’ve led or wed?
Who you’ve fed a lie or made cry?
Always remember you will die,

Ten good deeds?
A score?
Does it outweigh the dark?
Do you care which heavenly bells hark?

Strong formidable, body healthy,
A traumatized mind stares at a reflection,
That of a skeleton,
Drained, caned, infamy preordained,

Bogged down by mental mortal chains,
Social strains, driving him insane,
Perspectively it will never end,
Even death is just another time encapsulated den,

Forever adding details,
To a undefined gory story,
Forever and always,
Momento Mori...
A lonesome swordsman
Stands on a hill
Watching the village
Where nothing is still

No quiet moment
No crowdless street
No content beings
Nothing unaccounted for

Except the man
On the hill
For he knows one thing
That will

One pair of eyes unseeing
One pair of legs not moving
One pair of hands, useless
One heart not beating

The devil-reaper
On the hill
Looks to one broken home
And finds his ****
Thanks for reading!
Anya Mar 6
Youthful soul who risked your prayers
Do not let your mind be taken
Forget their fear and well known snares
It was not you we had forsaken

He of bone and ghostly drape
Who greets us when we’re ill
Do not disown your late escape
Until the dying lay still

Man of marrow protect his lie
As many have seen it so
And it is why the virtuous die
As it is a life they would forgo
Seanathon Mar 5
Shadows dance across the collar
A striking contrast above the eyes
And there beneath the pavement lies
Where the contors whip and flee
Where the hollow outlines always try
And run and hide
Reaper
Anya Mar 2
We play with sickles
Through bounties of wheat
Waiting for our mothers to call
We follow the footsteps
Of jackals and hooves
Beyond the forests of Yew
We follow the tune
Of the lyres sweet song
To a friend we had forgotten
And while we danced
Our fathers plowed
And our mothers were weeping  alone
Though we few
Who never knew
Him who we thought we had known
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