Almost Certain Poem by Mary Champion

He will stalk you from birth till the end,
and there's naught that you do can defend
you against the keen edge of his blade
that will sever the light from your shade.
Blank of eye, and with cold, lipless grin
he will ruthlessly gather you in.
There is no where on Earth you can hide
his intentions cannot be denied.
Chicanery, cheating and guile
may serve to delay him a while,
but remorselessly he will pursue
helpless victims - and that includes you!
Your reason will be no defence,
he's resistant to all common sense.

On his merciless journey through time,
promoting predestined decline,
he undermines life where he treads,
his corruption corroding the threads
of the being, we each hold most dear.
His cold fleshless touch inspires fear.
When he calls, you can hide where you will,
but he'll seek out his settlement still.
Only giants can bring him to heel;
as he treats them to lunch and a deal.
One percent - the elite - ever flee
the Grim Reaper from HMRC.