The Reaper

We welcome Konyinsola again, readers. Read and enjoy.

Death knows neither pomp nor pageantry, neither poverty nor penury.
The reaper cares not who the devil sends for
He just creeps in unexpected and takes his victim,sometimes with grotesque gore

Death has no loyalty or friends
He ends the life of the young and old
Nothing more than grief and pain he sends
Could even take an angel, if foretold

The easiest of his prey are dealers
Money chasers who sell their souls for big houses and huge pillars
He watches patiently for a decade
For when it's the tenth year, he has his fun

Sipped the life of my friend at a tender age
Looking back, I just fill with rage
While the reaper laughs and plays with his scythe
Takes a look at his death list, and smirks
For another helpless victim is in the works

Could it be you?
Say a prayer before bedtime too.
Could it be me?
The reaper, with his malevolent eyes not be me he sees.



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