Grim reapers are not always men,
Some appear to be beautiful with a grin,
They are not after my physical body,
But for my soul and they are bloody.
Dressed up beautifully with darkness,
Eating me up with my weakness,
On a widely spread nights table,
On a platter I laid my heart and was noble.
Though I offer my heart on a platter,
It feels hungry for my soul to cater.
Death wishes to stab and shatter my heart,
By manipulating my mind proving it wasn't a part.
I offered my love & energy for it to quench,
But it sucked out all of my emotions at brunch.
The lust for my soul in it's eyes
And a kiss that makes my heartbeat sigh.
When it engulfed my soul,
There was none to hear my howl.
This heart wrenching sadness,
Lead me to a place of stillness.
By
Sanji-Paul Arvind
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