The Reapers

The Reapers

A Poem by Vicarious Fieldog
"

health is pretty good right now and with pc gone mad.. less people are dying.. thats a good thing right? no.. wrong, way wrong.. actually as youll read its a crying shame for some

"

Temple of the ever-lost,

Upon the green glade of hope,

Through the eternal life theyve found,

Someone must pay the cost

 

Shawl of the devil.

Wasted power

The death count is nil,

On this very darkest hour

 

Decaying below,

As they thrive on the surface,

Out in the distance the caw of the crow

Living, breathing unaware of their bliss

 

Drinking their tea and just waiting,

As the power of death is fading.

Faceless threat sitting stiller,

Than the corpse of one time killer

 

Dormant scythes go rusty,

The blood on their hands in crusty

 

The Reapers of Souls are bored,

But not by their own accord..

Now their prey lives forever,

Because the apes have got clever

 

Leaving behind those forgotten by time,

Leaving them behind forever

Scythes on themselves,

sycthes on eachother

For the once proud reapers..

 

The once proud reapers of souls

© 2011 Vicarious Fieldog


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Added on September 30, 2011
Last Updated on September 30, 2011