The Reaper

(I wrote this poem really late in the night when I was angry at an ex-friend, and I know it’s sort of spotty so I’m looking for areas to improve. Any feedback is appreciated haha)

Funny how you cried when the box was laid in the ground, How your claws gripped at your heart. Funny how you sung to the skies as it cried with rain, When the song was an unfitting rhapsody. Funny how you’d carved the stone with such precise care, Where the words were all misspelled. Funny how with the silver lilies choked in your grasp, Who could see blood beneath your nail?

Remember when you painted that mask on your face, How you wore it when I closed my eyes. Remember when you courted my lost phantom soul, When you were the only one alive. Remember when you built me a place to call home, Where tourists paid to see a haunted house. Remember when you became the exact sort of villain, Who I’d seen bury you too.

See where you chose to throw me under the ground, How you wore your most boastful gown. See where flowers are tribute to those without souls, When most grow right under your name. See where the dirt lingers on the thick skin of my hand, Where I had to dig myself out of the grave. See where lay the bruises of craving claws in my flesh, Who else could’ve left such scars?

Wonder who you claim to be, or if you even know, How each mask is carved from a casket. Wonder who owns that ivory tower at the crime scene, When the bricks are soaked in your sweat. Wonder who am I now the soul and body is one, Where as above is so below. Wonder who you’ll be when plagued by your own myths, Who is a shapeshifter without a shape?

Why is it that each form you take mirrors each eulogy you write? Don’t you have a soul of your own? Why is it that burials follow each friendship you find? Don’t they match your rotting corpse? Why is it that I crawled out of hell to escape you? Do you see the hiss on your tongue? Why is it I now have a colour that you never quite had? Because the reaper was never alive. But the reaper must know every dead.