thoughts

It's death again......... He's always there,

Watching, waiting, but oh his stare,

Everytime I look behind,

Or reach to pull the window blind,

I catch a glimps of grubby hood,

A little clue to where he stood,

The glint of light that caught the scythe,

Perhaps if I could pay a tithe,

But 'O! No use, he'll never go,

The adamant phantom, dont you know,

He will but wait until its time,

For me to hear his fateful chime,

The tole that claims my destiny,

To hail; you're next, it has to be.

-Mark R. Slaughter-