i ran into the grim reaper on my morning jog. a black cloak was draped over his rotting skeleton, a ragged hood hiding his spider-web infested eye sockets.
he beckoned me with a gleaming scythe, an aura of bleak blackness washing over his figure.
i asked him to take me early and he refused with a simple "no."
"why do you have to be so blunt?"
he didn't answer at first, and as i turned to leave, i heard his lethal voice like an IV needle dripping as it's dragged down my spine.
"i'm death. death isn't supposed to sugarcoat things. or else it'd be more than one syllable."
"i guess that makes sense."
YOU ARE READING
the remains
Poetryspontaneous poetry written while overcoming some of life's many obstacles. ❝i cried tears you'll never see, so fuck you. you can go cry me an ocean and leave me be.❞ ▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁ COLLECTION NO.1 #125 in poetry © wraiths™ 2015
