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Rated: E · Poetry · Dark · #2143246
This poem was written when my aunt was in the hospital on life support
"The Reaper"

Icy chills crawl up your spine,
bony fingers wrap themselves around your still-beating heart.
you shiver from the iciness that now has your soul.
Taken from this world,
where do you go from here?
It's up to the reaper,
he decides your fate.
In his long black cloak,
he leads you where he will.
A skeletal face,
shows no emotion.
With a scythe,
he points the direction.
He takes his time,
makes you more nervous.
He utters not a word,
as you're taken away.
Where will you end up?
The reaper only knows.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2143246