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Touch of the Reaper

The taker of souls,
the bringer of death.
Black are his goals,
he seeks to stop your breath.
Underneath the hood
a skull rests on the shoulders of Dread.
He stands to oppose all that is good.
Alone he conspires, never a tear to shed.
Reaching out to take your life,
with a single bony finger
he will succeed in this strife.
By itself, your spirit will linger.
Age or youth, he will come,
To extinguish the wildfire you have become.





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