I hear the chorus of angels.
Each note high and low,
mournful with remorse.
I see the humans in black,
the color of unspoken grief.
I see the tears, drops of
water of misery.
No one sees me yet I am
in plain sight, not hiding
even though it is my fault.
I go through this over and over,
it varies slightly each time,
but it is my tragic yet
powerful life.
I walked over to the coffin,
where bodies lay, forever
Sleeping Beauties.
I look at their innocent faces,
and I gaze upon the windows
to the soul.
I build the bridge of wishes,
dreams, sins, of the dead.
Bleeding hearts, death flowers
lay entwined this death as
always.
Who am I?
I am the grim reaper.
~
