Once, I went on an evening stroll.

A man came from my right,

smiling right into my soul

I could tell this was no normal night.

For this man greeted me with a flower

one picked straight from heaven's gates

and he handed it to me, at twelfth hour.

I followed him curiously with haste,

wondering what was in store

for he was racing down the street

but whatever for?

I then saw he had someone else to meet

A figure, clothed in black

Death, himself, it must be, for

down the side of his face ran a crack

with blood, concerning me more

He accepted from the man a knife;

one that glinted in the moon

he cared for no other life,

I approached him ever so soon.

I looked at him and thought to flee

as I stood frozen in place, like a work of art

he turned and smiled at me

and lunged straight for my heart.