Matt (Wraithlord)'s Blog – February 2015 Archive (3)

He moves in the night,

Astride his pale horse,

The Reaper of all Light,

He who brings remorse.

His scythe rends through the soul,

which is then, by him judged,

To be pure or black as coal,

To heaven or hell, it is then rushed.

He is Death,

The Shade Eternal,

Before him, We're all but rodents,

Watched upon by a sleepless sentinel.

How easily do you condone,

All that in the long run,

Whether it be sword or gun,

Shall make loss shun.

When all is said and done,

And the seeds of contempt are sown,

When people's heads in disgust turn,

Would you still think you have won?

When people have died,

Their wounds gaping wide,

When children have cried,

Their parents' corpses in sight,

Have your hearts never sighed?

How can you turn your head?

Are all your…

Hello everybody, this is IceWraith, and I am a new Mythical Beast!

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