Robby Johnson/ Kasey kramer

Death

I make rounds no matter what year,

Your soul will be in my arms,

All the faint whispering I can hear,

I will gently carry you away,

You will be lying there,

Caked in your own body,

A scream will dribble down the air,

The only sound I will hear is thesoundofthesmellofmyfootsteps,

I vacation in increments, in colors,

I like a dark chocolate covered sky,

I enjoy every color, a billion or so flavors,

The question is, what color will everything be when I come for you?

I do not carry a sword or scythe,

I only wear a black robe when it’s cold,

I am not malicious,

I am just a result,

I am all bluster,

I am not violent,

If you want to know what I look like,

Find yourself a mirror