Raven Pilipczuk


Grim Reaper (= me)


Somewhere far away,
when you're dying,
you'll hear a voice,
you'll see me close,
weapon in hand,
and blood on my scythe,
as I cock my head,
and flutter my eyes.

Submitted: Monday, August 26, 2013
Edited: Thursday, October 09, 2014
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Topic of this poem: death

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