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Reaper
And behold outside as the darkness does bloom,
She dreams away of her untimely doom.
She rises up, drenched in sweat, and walks to her window this night.
Everything within her stirred, she shakes with a terrible fright.
She peers through the glass to find a trench coated man standing out on the lawn.
His dark sinister eyes piercing her soul as he whispers her name of Dawn.
She jerks back with sudden jolt,
As off in the distance the sky alights by a mysterious lightning bolt.
She gives off a scream into the thickening darkness that goes unheard.
Under short and raspy breaths held away from a heart racing wild she utters a single word.
Reaper. It echos through her mind, it hides beneath her soul.
Her dream comes true as her eyes do see that soon she shall pay the toll.
She gathers her strength and forces herself back to the window,
She looks down but no longer sees the trench coated man,
Instead there is nothing but the howling wind and its echo.
Dropping to her knees she prays to a God unseen.
She asks for forgiveness and prays for the life that was taken in her dream.
The handle on the downstairs door turns ever so slowly as her husband stumbles in.
Reaking of sin, filth, and grime he makes his way upstairs to kiss his bride with lips of gin.
He finds her cowering, staged in a corner unable to move,
He stomps over towards her, his feet carrying on like hooves.
He grabs her shoulders and jerks her up into his mighty arms,
And smiles through yellow stained teeth, showing her his drunken charm.
She forgets the reason she was so afriad as she stares into her husbands eyes,
Seeing truths she wish would remain untold, knowing that he is nothing but a lie.
His grip tightens as his lips meet her own,
And quickly to the bed she finds herself thrown.
He reaches for her dress and snags its end.
She kicks and screams, her own life she defends.
He pulls his arm back in retreat but brings her dress along with it.
Torn to her thighs he smiles gazing upon her, knowing that he can do whatever he sees fit.
He is lost within the darkened pit of his own subconscience desire,
He stares at his wife, his trembling whore, with eyes that are alight with fire.
He unzips his pants and lets them fall.
He takes a step and finds himself on the floor, so he begins to crawl.
Mounting her he pins back her arms and spreads her legs,
Through tear stained eyes and a clouded mind for her life she begins to beg.
He cares nothing for her life, she knows this to be true,
She inhales sharply and takes in the scent of a whore?s dew.
Seeping off her husband like a stagnent odor she smells his sin,
And she closes her eyes and preys for this all to end.
The door to their room closed tight by drunken hands,
Quickly swings open; and there the trench coated man stands.
The husband of Dawn, the ill minded drunk, quickly rises off of his wife,
He shoots of the bed and opens the door to the nightstand,
And from there in the back he draws out a knife.
A fearsome grin creases the face of the trench coated man,
As he stares through his darkened eyes at the drunk with knife in hand.
The Drunken Husband scared and arroused rushes fast,
The trench coated man reaches out, the night fills with a scream,
The Drunken Husband?s last.
Dawn stares into the face of her savior, that whom she feared so,
She stares into his darkened eyes, he is the stranger she wishes to know.
He says nothing but kneels to the man now dead,
And there he places his hand atop the dead mans head.
A light more brilliant and electric than any blue lights up the room,
Dawn watches in horror and delight, knowing now that her dream did not predict her own doom.
The light fades out and the trench coated man rises to his feet,
At the window soft taps are heard, the coming rain mixed with sleet.
Dawn tries to find voice to speak but has nothing she can say,
So she is left to watch as the trench coated man, her Reaper walks away.
She slams her hands into the window as he walks across her lawn,
She watches as he walks away, disappearing into the night, whispering the name of Dawn.
Her Reaper saved her life, she will never forget this night.
And now her every dream shall be haunted by the Reaper, by her own Dark Knight.
The woman is sixty and bears no ill towards any man or beast,
She lives alone and in front of the television eats her microwable feast.
The television flickers and a face appears,
A man with eyes of pitch who pines at her every fear.
She watches in horror, and stares on with curious delight.
Suddenly shattered by the opening of her door this terrible and tragic night.
Five kids, no older than twenty, rush into her living room and aim their guns,
Her heart skips a beat as her mind plays out every possible scenerio, none of which are run.
The kids now with hostage bark out orders for her to obey,
But she stares blankly forth, unable to find any words to say.
Tears roll forth as she remembers her mother and what she once said,
Dying ember in the darkened sun, to the world we shall soon be fed.
She never understood quite what that had meant,
But now she knows, for now she fears the last of her life has just been spent.
Frustrated and angry and too cocky for their own good,
The kid with the shotgun pointed towards her does what he feels he should.
He pulls back on the trigger as his ears go deaf from the unforgiving sound.
He watches as she falls and blood seeps across the ground.
Wild screams through voices held in fear sound out,
As they look to one another they quiet, until all at once they begin to shout.
What have they done, what do they do now that she is dead?
One of them then looks to her, lowering his head.
The door behind them quietly creaks shut,
They hear it not, instead they stand frozen in fear, no longer worrying about the robbery or their eventual cut.
Into the room walks the Reaper and stares at them with eyes of pitch,
They look to him and shiver in terror, knowing now that they will never be rich.
The man says nothing only moves towards he who has killed,
The other two watch as they realize that their own fates have now been sealed.
The Reaper places his hand over the shotgun kids face,
The other two wonder if they should run, would this man give chase?
The shotgun kid falls lifeless to the floor below,
As the rain and sleet outside turns to snow.
The Reaper moves to the other two and looks into their eyes,
Together, all at once they lose control as they both begin to cry.
Their eyes close tight and they pray to a God that listens not to their pleas,
They feel the ground beneath and know that they are on their knees.
Though sharp quick breaths they open their eyes and behold an empty room,
Their lives spared, they no not why, but they feel that their own death?s will come very soon.
Lights of red and blue whirl in rapid pace outside,
There?s nothing they can do now, nowhere they can hide.
They will tell all those they will come to see of the Reaper they have seen with their own eyes,
But they will go ignored, it will be believed that they tell nothing more than lies.
They will die in prison, with no one there to care,
All because in this room filled with death, their lives were spared.
Walking down the cold street alit by lamp, covered in snow,
The Reaper moves swiftly, yet walks ever so slow.
He travels silently and sees around him the sin that brings harm.
And for those that hurt another, he will come to deliver them into Hell?s unforgiving arms.
Those he saves shall fear and love him for saving them on those dark and terrible nights,
For them he is the Reaper and their Dark Knight.
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What was the inspiration for this?
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3 AM, bordem, too much mountain dew and not enough cigarettes.
