The Reaper Poem by (TPAC) Alexander Coppedge

Your cold freezing chill denotes put will horror, closing form unknown dread an ill figure killer, shrinking abilities into dark depth plays game.

Scythe ripping attacks prey the swing tripping, cut sharp tong thirsts soul hunts blood slayer, sipping abuse to flesh sent hell another reality.

Specter doing a tragic evil scheme put to slay, endures us this theme wishing death certainty, creeping to you Thing asleep extreme horrors.

His fate slaughtering souls in groaning rages, cutting victims a hater in the shadows stages, gives ill pain to others, creating seen mirages.

Rodent to stop breath final to living his deeds, slicing into flesh parts, opened somebody led quickly bled shines red finds miseries a corpse.

Destroyer his dart kills a weasel not at a word, utter heart not a warm action bloodied its tolls unhappiness, dragging a cart the slain victims.

His reason given to a blow the head attacker hit, tear stranger fright sent spooky death taps, splitting a pole person this season food grave.

Pawns a foe no power against ancient mystic evils, shower it gloom they to breath in the air, place all towering life or a swap mower blade!