The Reaper

By Avika Patel

The things that happen in midnight,

Are unseen, unheard, but felt,

By the innocent victims swallowed whole by the darkness.

With only stars to guide their way,

They ventured into the void,

Fierce but scared,

Thinking of the moment,

When they would see The Reaper,

A monster said to lurk the depths,

At midnight He strikes,

At midnight He feeds,

At midnight He is empowered,

After midnight He recedes.

They crawled and walked and ran,

In the hope of killing the monster which plagued their homes,

They tried, oh yes they did, 

But went to the afterlife like they all did,

The Reaper takes all.

He has no soul,

Or body, like they say,

He wears no cloak nor wields a scythe,

And ne’er takes a breath.

It’s said he can smell a dying soul,

From all four corners of the Earth,

Takes each upon his back,

And carries them to the Underworld.

He listens not to the pleads and threats,

He’s heard them countless times,

He places them on a little row-boat,

And rows until they reach,

What mortals call Hell,

And what the Gods call redemption.

The Reaper watches as a few souls drown,

But he utters not a word,

He lets them fade in the raging waters,

He lets them drown where they would not come back.

Only dying men fear The Reaper,

The healthy and the happy ones accept,

Some question his existence,

But if you look back on a moment of near death,

You’d see a faint shadow of a nonexistent soul,

Right on your neck.

He isn’t someone to be afraid of,

He’d bring no harm to you,

But the second you try to run from death,

He’d chase after you.

He would engulf you with darkness,

And as you’d draw a long breath,

He’d enter your lungs and fill them up,

With the odor of death.

By Avika Patel