The Reaper’s Bow (Poem)

4 Oct

Web of secretes Deceptive lies

This is not a game, this is real life

Hiding behind the face, that masks so much pain

When is the right time, to start the rest of my life

Seeking out a means to an end all too soon

The choices made marked as doomed

Seeing the faces pitting me

The one person’s face I need to see

Won’t even really look at me

The pain that is inside festers and grows

The answer is not death of the body

But now I fear it maybe my soul

The reaper is coming with his sickle rapped in a bow

He wears such a familiar face, the one that hurts me so

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