Grim Reaper Poem by kalyan mech

Did He made that bright glow darken,
The illume deity in daily tedium,
As her travail jump off bed before He awakes
And she naps after he does; it's her quotidium.

This widow reaper always tilts her head
But there no sign of honour incrust,
Also it is not because of hard toils,
It is the burden on her back; a gift of lust.

She smiles and her eyes twinkle,
Reckoning her harvest accretion,
But at her smile i don't see a sparkle,
May be for dark hue and lesion.

She divides her teasure into two, now thrice;
One for her one for daughter, last for evening feast,
But she now saves none for her;
Well, one for nomaids and other for corner priest.

For that fourwall confined thief
And other who feeds on her labour,
Dear, they are not praising paragon,
They are felon grim reapers.