The Reaper Poem by Christopher Tye

The Reaper

The reaper feeds off our evil deeds,
Wars across the centuries making him strong,
No compassion in his soulless bones.

All of humanities misfortune his boon,
The plight of the poor fits his nefarious purposes,
Gladly taking the young as much as the old.

Warmongers and despots his earthly children,
Humanities darkest and baddest his friends,
For without death and sorrow he wouldn't be.

By Christopher Tye