Death glides in on a wave of shadows.
He stands silently, gazing o’er the crowd.
There are Blacks, Whites, Asians, and more.
The people are blind to the threat in their midst,
They all have pasts, futures, and dark secrets.
Some are nervous, some are calm, all have sinned.
Death does not discriminate, Death does not judge.
Death unsheathes his scythe, and swings.