A plague called greed

A whisper in the dark, he hears it in the air,
"Don't you come near, don't even dare!",
he silently pleads to the dark.

A cold, brisk chill sweeps over his frigid bones.
His fate has been decide, death has already chose,
to snuff out the flame of life and leave not even a spark.

The old man panics, he sees his past,
as he soon realizes that this desolate night is to be his last.
His chest is heaving, each breath labored, the silent stalker finally appears.

There Death stands, an unholy angel, in the old man's view,
his victim in his sight, he knows just what to do.
The old man is not long for this world, for there stand the grim reaper.

As the soon to be departed looks death in the face, he asks with insistent need,
"Why? Why do you come to commit such a heinous deed?"
To which Death replies, "I am the balance to man's corrupt greed, an all consuming plague that spreads its undying seed."