The Reaper

As with many of my poems written years ago. I'm reworking many of my old poems because I feel my past needs to be out of the closet.

A battle once fought upon a plane of invisibility now exposed.

Bodies upon bodies lay strewn upon a hidden plane of evolution only now to decompose.

Such life thrown away by some as garbage, but only to save another of their kind.

Without words and without thought no one speaks the word of sin.

Death be short and death be long the only two things that one should want to prolong.

Now instead because of hate and war their lives therefore exist no more.

No, one person is safe from this hate of all hates.

I look upon the ravaged bodies to only shead a single tear,

I know what I must do, but why should it have to be me to take what little they have left and so dear.

I walk amoungst the dead and pull their souls to keep,

This is my job; the one job that you can only reap.

The souls of the damned are mine to hold at will,

They will never see life or light again as long as I stay shrill.

No, hope for redemption for what they've done in the past,

My job to keep them prisoner for eternity will forever last.

Author's Note

OMG I hate this poem with an utter passion. I think this could possibly be two different poems. Any help would be appreciated.

Reviews

[NightDream]

LOL I like it. It is visual and dark. It gave me the sensation of walking a bloody battle field and seeing the souls sucked from the damned. I find it to be a refreashing view of the reaper because he/she/it does not enjoy what he knows he must do. It is simply its job.