Scythe of the Lovelorn

The story of a man who lost his loved one and became so obsessed with death that his spirit was clothed by the celestial grace, and became the Grim Reaper himself.

I've dug till my hands bled

In a bare land called memories

Like a knife it stuck inside my heart

The smell of your hair

My heart was torn to see

The empty room and your full grave

So I left my homeland

In search of serenity

But all I found was your face

In the blue lakes and the golden shores

In the woods of the south, the winds of the north

On the bridge to paradise you dragged me to hell

So I dug into my mind

To pull your name out of my future

But the longer I dig, the harder it gets

To break the roots that a kiss left

Do you remember the night we danced?

Even sunrise wept your absence

And left my world to drown in heavy rain

Let go of my thoughts

Your dreadful tears bled me dry

And the shade on your grave

Took my eyes away

There’s no life for me

In the depths of heaven’s gardens

No roses for my cursed hands

Only death that dwelt in my palms

Unwilling to escape, I lost my will

There’s a life for me

In the coldest corners of space

Where I can see your glass face

Reflected in the moon so barren

Like the memories fed by whispers

And melodies drowning in the black

At last I see my comfort

In my scythe, my curse…my destiny

I fly to take life from mortals

For my angel

My lost relic that won’t be forgotten

No time passes for me

As I stand at the peak of the world

Waiting for more souls to reap

for another piece of my comfort

 

 

 

Reviews

[Wolfhilde]

a sad but nice poem. You feel the anger and the sadness of the person in the poem. well done