Death approaches quick and unforgiving.
The sands of time run thin.
A life hanging by a thread soon to be extinguished like a flame in the wind.
The banshee sounds her chilling wail announcing the approaching end.
Her heart wrenched cry echoing through the night.
She cries of sadness a thousand times too great to bear.
Mothers everywhere hold tight to children,their hearts consumed with fear.
Yet they know their pleas can do nothing to stop Death's arrival.
The night air grows cold and still as blackened clouds engulf all.
Thunder claps and lightning strikes as impending doom is now at hand.
Hell's gates have opened sending out the grim coachman to collect a soul.
Six dark stallions pull the carriage as a trail of hellfire follows in their wake.
Their thunderous hooves shake the ground as their hellish neighs and grunts pierce the air.
The coachman cracks his bone handled whip urging the team to make haste.
Faster and without relent they race.
Not long now till a soul is claimed by Death's cold embrace.
