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Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Drama · #1078289
A poem about Death to the rescue.
From The Chronicles of Death

The Plainsman

There is this place
he knows it well,
where he can rest
for just a spell.

It's a barren plain
he travels through,
devoid of greed
but not for you.

The Plainsman comes
he's growing near;
He wants you next
you'll know the fear.

He's come for you
in cloak of black
to take your soul;
not give it back.

He once was here
yes, once before;
took someone else,
forever more.


a sig for a folder
© Copyright 2006 T.L.Finch (t.l.finch at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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