On death

You stand there, with your Scythe held high
Eyes empty and heart void

Through devious means you work your ways
And we know not how it sways

For it is all encompassing and full of dread
As you choose to chop off another head

You are never satisfied and emotionless
What then can stir your wrath?

He who uses my power in spite
Shall feel the wrath of my might
I will bear down on him and cloud his mind
But I will not take him, oh no.
I will let him live his mortal curse
Until he craves my touch like a lover would.

Cursed be he who shall bear this fate
Forever tortured against hells gate.

Never allowed to pass the void
Forever banished from the realm of God.

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