Death Poetry: He's Coming for You
He walks with a limp,
His gaze is grim,
He’ll steal your soul,
If you ever lay eyes on him.
Old and feeble,
Decrepit at first glance,
But cross his path
And death is the only happenstance.
He consumes with impunity,
Pillaging the fruits of labors,
Shopkeepers lay out their wares,
In hopes to gain his favor.
But no one gains his favor,
His will is indiscriminant,
He takes what he wants
And if he wants you
Your end is imminent.
Try to run if you want,
His reach is without bounds.
Death is coming for you,
And so are his Hell hounds.
