A man called Death.

 

I’m dying from guilt, the irony is that I’m death

But you get me, I’m sure you do because there’s no other way

I could possible explain the grief and torture that I live with,

Constantly hearing your questions, feeling your tears like

The shock that comes with thunder sounds, only that this feeling never dies.

 

My name is death, you could call me midnight, or the end

Some of you wish to call me names that cannot even be spoken.

But, let me explain, I hope you understand my presence after.

 

You see, the thing is that sometimes I’m a necessity and other times, a prevention

I’m not totally human, I feel your pain but no I’m not human,

The difference is that I hear the cries you do not hear, and the pretense behind those smiles

I hear the silent pleas for an end, the 3am thoughts that to be gone is better

Thus, becoming a necessity, removing pain and putting an end to those tears

My reasons are for help of course, but like you humans I need my peace- it’s always short-lived

But savored nevertheless.

 

Other times I prevent, I see ahead,

I see the things that will happen, and the pains to be felt

 The sufferings to be encountered,

I see battles so great, and losses unexplainable

So I take, I call them, never to be returned

Or else of course you believe in reincarnation

Then maybe you’ll see them again.

 

The thing is though, when I do my Job,

You grief too

Do I take you too?

Do you understand?

You can handle it, that’s why you’re still here

With apologies; the DARK man