The Grim Reaper

There was the enigma,

standing in the bleak.

Subdued or not?

Subdued or weak?

You can't tell in the dark

if there was any bumfuzzle.

but no not at all,

the man was like a solved puzzle.

He wished that was true,

he wished that was such.

The hole in the heart gave away,

that he did not have much.

It wasn't as if,

he was an anarchist.

He worked hard but,

the problems didn't fit in a list.

He smiled wistfully,

not knowing what to say.

He finally said, "It's alright,

life tends to be this way."

The stress marks and wrinkles,

all over his face.

Yet he seemed so calm,

he seemed at pace.

He reached out a hand,

you took it, still shaking.

He said this is it,

this is the end of yearning.

You ask whether all this is true,

and if so who is he.

He says he is death

and he is here to end your life spree.

You worry and panic,

as you try to get away.

He says, " No my child,

this is not the right way."

You look into his eyes

all sooty and black.

It seems as if he has been working,

he's been working in a shack.

You wonder who he is,

He says he's the Grim Reaper.

Yet so calm, scary

just like a crowkeeper.

You ask how he is so calm,

so well put.

He says he is not,

all the agony is in caput.

And so you scream,

as he pulls out your soul.

Leaving a lifeless body,

like no ink on a scroll.

The Grim Reaper