The Reaper

In the night he comes to me,
his blinding darkness is all I see.

He reaches out his cold dead hand,
​ as he summons me to stand.

Through thick clouds we do walk,
and slowly he begins to talk.

He tells me of my days gone past,
and of my life that did not last.

Shedding useless tears I implore,
I was not done, please I need more.

With a mocking grin and wicked tongue,
he says my dear, we've just begun...