Collector Of Souls Poem by Aa Harvey

On the blackest of nights, as the winter sets in,
There is a shadow moving in the distance
And I can see it is approaching.
Through blood-stained memories, I am nervous again;
The haunter is coming once more to be born inside my brain.


Without reason he is here and he is without reasoning;
I can lie all I want to, but I cannot lie in peace.
He is becoming every fear and he is cast in sin;
He is a future buried beneath a stone and I have no release.


I am eternally trapped and forever living in fear;
No salvation to be found in this unlit night, for he has reappeared.
The reaper is here with his scythe in hand;
He is the collector of souls, he is the taker and he is damned.


Time is of no consequence and we are all without defence,
When he comes to take us, along the River Styx.
You can plead to a Godless being, you can promise him anything;
But there is nothing you can say,
To make him stop what he is doing.


He has been here since long before you were ever born
And he will still be here long after you have come and gone.
He took the soul of the man underneath the crown of thorns
And he doesn't answer to anyone; he has no God.


He is immortal and not living;
He is the coldest being to have ever walked upon this world.
He is Death; he is The Grim Reaper;
He is The Collector of Souls.


(C) 2016 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.