Death, poem written by Jack Wolfe Frost at



written by: Jack Wolfe Frost



Steely moves the slitted glare
The eyes that burn and demons dare
Of deathly nights and gutted spires
That taunt old men of lost desires
Torn dreams lurk in eyes of blood
And silent stealths the man in hood
Who rips and tears and death fulfills
The reaper wins and psyche chills
Your time is come he swiftly kills.

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