Grim Reaper

The Grim Reaper is cold 

And heartless they say,

But I despise taking souls.

Each life I take, I feel as if I decay.

 

The innocents who die 

Of a mass shooting make me weep.

The mothers who cry

Over their stillborns strike me deep.

 

Those who take their own lives 

Make me think about the “what if”s.

When I hear the shrieking cries

Of a murderer’s victim my heart goes stiff.

 

The old man who smiled before 

His death made me laugh though.

Those are times I adore;

When it’s their proper time, when they know.

 

And as much as I hate taking sick

Children, I always make sure they enjoy

Their last night. We play games, have a picnic, 

get ice cream. I make sure that they know joy.

 

But no, the Grim Reaper is cold 

And heartless as they say.

He has no soul,

He has no life that can decay.

 

He knows not of emotions.

He knows not of love.

He knows not of the motion

Of life and there of. 

 

That’s what they picture me as.

My name is Azrail, the Angel of Death.

The “Grim Reaper” is only mass media’s mask.

But I’m a kind face to see at your last breath.

 

Unless you were evil or wrong in your life,

My face will be smiling, we’ll talk,

figure things out, and make things right.

I’ll give you the key to Heaven’s lock,

 

And you’ll be free.

Free from the dark and scary world.

The world I despise, the world that despises me.

Your heart will finally be unfurled.

 

But despite my good intentions and

Friendly aura, I am still labeled as bad.

I’m still seen as the curse to man,

But I promise I’m not as evil as said, I’m just sad.

 

I’m stressed by the cruel world and

How humanity has become. A killing here,

A killing there. I’ve become numb to the land

Of desperation and fear.

 

There are many evil people on earth,

And that is when I become the “Grim Reaper.”

Taking the soul of an evil, I torture them first.

I make sure they go to the pits of Hell, or deeper.

 

But that’s only with the wrong-doers, 

With the murderers and rapists. My heart

Is still on a skewer

For the innocents who found death in a head start.

 

Whatever you read next in the news,

Just know that the Angel of Death helped them.

Know they are not alone, they are not abused.

I am there in the afterlife to help them begin.

 

This poem is about: 
Our world

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741