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Rated: E · Poetry · Death · #1903611
How the reaper might do the bidding of a higher power
Waiting like a snare for unsuspecting souls
Underneath the forest floor hidden by its leaves
With the show of empty faith
Lurking around like a wondering wraith
Invisible as it moves
Not knowing itself where to go
Moving along gathering souls
Where it will go
No one is allowed to know
Now night becomes forever
Days light returns never
Scents of all things go away
There is no feeling left to feel
All wonders of life never to return
Things known and done
People, family, and friends gone
May sound as a selfish thought
But these are feelings of being distraught
Thinking it only affects just one
All are now in despair
Bringing back these thoughts
Those were once tucked away
© Copyright 2012 Jon Woodcrest (chasfact at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1903611