He's small and bony,
Gray and white,
He carries around a scythe.
No heart or soul,
Just a flesh eating core,
Evil red eyes,
Tell you he has arise.
Takes what Yours,
Makes it his,
One way he returns the favor,
Is with his deadly kiss
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
u r really good at poems. i understand death as well as u do. i give u a 10. keep it up!