Poem: "Good King Death"

I don't often write poetry. 

For one reason, I'm far too busy exposing the truth of the Infestissumam and writing about the foul creatures that lurk in it, seeking the ruin of souls, but also because...well, I'm not really good at poetry. But, for some reason, I felt moved to write this particular little ditty, so please enjoy it since there won't be many poems coming from me!

Good King Death

 

The Reaper creeps on you with steady stealth,

Slowly he walks, ever he stalks, all the long years of your life,

You live staying in health, praying for wealth,

But you’ll be moaning, ever groaning, wanting to end your strife,

As he takes your final breath,

In payment to Good King Death.

 

The Reaper, never a sleeper, takes with no remorse,

You lay there dying, your loved ones crying, they beg for reprieve,

You want to go – you need to know – what’s beyond this course,

Your family grumbling, their anger rumbling, as you, dying, leave,

And he takes your final breath,

In payment to Good King Death.

 

The Reaper is here, cold so near, the gate swinging shut,  

You’ll lay there gasping, your breath rasping, all turning to shade,

The world turns black, you want to turn back, but…

You thought yourself well as you’re plunged into Hell – oh, the mistake you made!

He took your final breath,

In payment to Good King Death.