13800
Times are very busy; nowadays I’m on my grind,
I take them to the light but certain things lay on my mind,
this job can be quite taxing to the caverns of the soul,
as though my grip is slipping off the patterns of control.
You know just who I am and if you don’t then listen up,
my role’s to take your lifeline when it’s time to give it up,
there’s no place you can run from me; a lot of folks have tried,
to go and hide; please understand, a lot of folks have died,
before they’ve wanted to; it’s a decision out your hands,
it’s not like you’ll return from this vacation; south of France,
Hawaii or Jamaica; this is not that kind of trip,
no need in bringin’ luggage or your troubles; life’s a b!tch.
I’ve held the hand of many when they’ve up and left this life,
the fear is in not knowing what exactly death is like,
it’s something that I can’t explain for mere words won’t convey,
the true essence of dying ‘cause you don’t just float away.
The years I’ve been at this ascend too high for most to count,
just think of this last Powerball and that’s a close amount,
some days I want to quit this gig but what else could I do?
As human beings expire ain’t that much left I could choose.
A job I had most recently installed me in a spin,
it made me question sins that radiate from all these men,
and ladies who I scoop up for their long awaited ride,
I looked into the eyes of someone not afraid to die.
The night was cold and rainy; have to say that it’s a fave,
of mine; the perfect atmosphere designed to fill a grave,
I stepped into a house and for some reason headed left,
and came across a woman on her cheeky bed of death.
She looked as though she’d lived for slightly past a century,
my scythe was at the ready for a lasting end to thee,
existence spanning many decades as she knew was gone,
the woman turned inquiring “Well what took you so long?”
Surprise an understatement as I questioned “Pardon me?”
She waved her hand dismissively and chuckled “Darling please,
I’ve prayed for death so long and now you’ve finally arrived,
I’m sorry that I’m smiling but I’m glad it’s time to die.”
A chair was at her bedside on the left and really quaint,
just try to wrap your head around The Reaper feeling faint,
I flopped down in it heavy; like that did a lot of good,
her wrinkled hand was trembling as she whispered “Drop the hood…”
I couldn’t move a muscle as I processed every sound,
she didn’t seem to fret ‘bout being buried in the ground,
my silence seemed to bring out something scary in her frown,
which Queened me like in chess (not checkers); heavy is the crown.
The woman then said “Things within my life have focked me up,
my husband used to beat me down before he’d lock me up,
inside a little closet; punishment would go for days,
without no food or water; it’s enough to go insane.
My children disrespected me, my family disowned,
effects were very damaging; a prison was my home,
there were no heroes then to swoop on in and save my life,
I only could look forward to the faithful day I’d die.
It’s taken sixty years and here you are; I might just cry,
a gift as well as curse is the finality of time,
I beg of you dear Reaper please to take it all away,
I’ve wanted this for quite some time so please don’t take all day.”
With sudden strength she must’ve summoned deep from her resolve,
the woman touched my hand and in an instant we were off,
upon the exploration of a fullness high in sky,
her withered face was beaming “Oh my goodness! I can fly!”
The light was what awaited her and eagerly she went,
at times the toughest piece of steel can easily be bent,
with just the proper pressure if we keep it all within,
The woman called me Reaper; least she didn’t call me grim.
