• The Grim Reaper

    The small of gun powder stings,
    the booming of a shell rings.

    I turn around to see
    the others coming towards me.

    So silently they slide;
    their face of death they hide.

    From the pits of Hell, they've come
    to take our land, our lives; to overrun

    Faster and faster, one proceeds
    a lust for blood is all it needs.

    The dark figure raised his blade
    to take y life, my soul, on it's raid

    I begin to shake, to shutter
    "All I can do is pray," I mutter

    It takes it weapon, ready to strike
    to put me down, in eternal night.

    But quick! Quick! I reach
    my gun, I shoot, I hear a screech.

    I look down to watch it fall
    and of my feeble voice, "Yes!" I call

    But then I notice something more
    something I had not seen before.

    I saw his tears, his eyes; his face
    And I knew he was of no other race

    But that I myself had becometh
    The dark, silent figure, of death.