Death

Death

My cloak,
A swirling mass of shadow,
I cure the suffering,
I stop starvation,
I hold my arm to those who have walked long and wish to rest their weary feet.
I listen to those in pain,
Waiting for the moment where they have had enough,
And end it to those who's life would never be the same after.
My Sycthe,
My sword,
held in hand lead the lost,
And my doors hold the comfort,
Of the long lost ones of the past
Standing,
Waiting proud on the otherside,
Or very disapointed,
To take them to their place of rest.
Depending on how you live you life now,
You may fine that death will bring comfort,
Or you may find that death brought only endless dispare.
I am feared,
And loved,
Some welcome me,
Others shun me when I offer life,
Or to pass the person over to their lord.
No religon matters in my eyes,
They all are the same,
They all hold beliefs,
I respect each belief,
And make them their reality.
I am Death.
Bringer to Eternal Rest.