Death Upon the Rock

By Nookie420

Once upon a midnight evening,
Looking toward a rock, and upon there seeing,
A slender figure, seeming frail and small of shape.
I felt a chill begin to form as a stared at her cape.

Stained red with blood, and backer than night,
I felt a fear that I could not fight.
Deep into that darkened cape I saw a demon glaring back,
But a demand it was not—it was a void—blacker than the deepest black.

I looked back to the woman on the rock,
Perching there like some feathered hawk.
Feathered with a ravens as death,
Without a pulse; without a breath.

Out in the night I saw my fears,
My heart was empty, and without cheer.
Like a Raven sitting there.
Without a soul; completely bare.

Bare of emotion, bare of life,
Just standing there within the strife.
It was not a mere bird of earth,
It was a devils unwholesome birth.

It was a messenger, come to take the souls,
Of the dead, and scorch them like fiery coals.
It was the courier to collect the last,
Of a life that is now passed.

The Reaper she must truly be,
It is plain for my eyes to see.
Now my heart is filled with dread.
She is here, for I am dead...

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