The Reaper

The reaper stands by a chair casting off the lost
The tears paint clear pictures that result in doom
The brush strokes so deep they resemble gun shots
Silence so overbearing, it clears the room
The victim lays still
The mourning begins
The letters wrote, lay in the window sill
The parents, they cry as they stare at the identical twin
The rain falls hard
Blurs of black pass, as tears well up the eyes.
The empathy showed in the most memorable regard
Unknowingly the reaper stand distant, in a familiar disguise
Taking lives is his motivation
A grim smile on his face as he takes the soul
The world creates his very foundation
It’s almost as if he plays a theatrical role.
He passes, from place to place
Testing his boundaries
Killing those who see his face
Even stopping in places, such as foundries
Something unexpected befalls him
Something he couldn’t begin to believe
Something that he always avoided on a whim
But the mind’s a horrible thing to try and deceive
On a task to rid the world of one more
He befriends a dying person
He puts on a smile, but he knows the score
He knows her conditions only gonna worsen
Saddened by the fate of his only friend
He holds out his hand, to give a sweet ease
With the touch, is something only the grim can comprehend
But sadness, its something that can act like a disease
Losing his motivation, he sits in wait
Trying to figure out what it is, that bothers him so
He was put on this plain to maintain the mortality rate
He’s halted his mission, he’s stopped the streamline flow
Taking his friends life, he committed an act of kindness?
With a slight unease, he gets up, setting forth to recover
With an unknowing blindness
On the things he’ll come to discover