What is this jest,
Made for comedy,
Tragedy?

Does fate await
the implosion
of an ancient
Modus Operandi?

Are these a mockery?
These sensations so
unmeaningly demeaning?

The dark is screaming,
and it promises a world,
void of care,
of feeling!

But in the
blinding black,
Shall I be able

To convince the Reaper
to turn the tables?

A grimly smile has He,
but in hate and greed,
it oddly lacks.

A smile inviting,
but can take you straight
to Hell and back.

My heart was still,
My hands no longer in
constant chase.

I reached toward Him,
and removed His hood
to reveal His face. 

And there I stood,
staring like a
foolish child.

A face that was
as mine,
so cold and
beguiled.

In those knowing,
sad eyes,
I began to see

A man I knew,
that had set me free.