Hiding behind the shadows,
I see a shadow alive,
the tune of death.
“Dare who hath?
To be alive in my presence,
I am the dark, I am the crescent,
that shields the mark.”
An embodiment of demise,
wielding a sabre of black steel
Hunting shadows with a sash
Making souls his meal.
A smile crawls his face, the face of Death
“Be not gentle, have no mercy,”
whisper the Furies,
the sisters of Circe.
Blade of souls with a long crescent,
A strong grip for anger to vent,
“I am here to devoid you
of all that meant,
I am Thanatos,
the face of dread.”
Sharp short breaths of varying lengths,
Shards of glass on wrists of Death.
Smirking at the resting soul, he draws the bloodthirsty dagger,
For it’s not different,
to sleep or to die.
It doesn’t matter whether you protest or cry.
“Sleeping in the shade, your minds in haze,
Twin of mine you willfully embrace,
What am I, if not a long slumber?
My love I am the angel, the Angel of sombre.”
“For you must leave,
from whence you came,
from shade to shade you return,
I will find you, you will be caught,
Whether you’re buried, whether you burn.”
“Oh, the ignorant soul,
kneeling and praying on black shores of Styx,
It’s time you be oblivious to the worldly charms,
Welcome to the place you be devoid of all plans.
Let go of your memories, forget your pain,
don’t let my mumblings drive you insane,
Swaying in the water like swans,
go limp in the waters of Lethe,
With a splash of cold fire and gentle rocking,
Let me take you to the three-headed dog awaiting.”