The Newcomer

The cracks in the visage as the paint chips

The portrait that was painted crumbles with age

The pages that tear after a single turn with a rip

As they attempt to welcome the next stage

I glimpse out of the window as I pay witness

Horrors decompose with the wrinkles of decay

I grimace as my eyes pay homage to the grimness

As my eyes witness what is at play

A horrifying figure looms in the distance

Eyes like daggers that stare through the darkness

The thick fog and trees hiding its appearance

A grisly demeanor, its intent not seemingly harmless

The absence of noises welcome newfound dread

I succumb to the fear, companion of the dead

Tremble as I may in horror of the figure after my head

I know that it seeks for the spill of my blood, red

Crumble as I may with age, I fear what is to come

I tremble as the figure steps forward with a low hum

Seeing the figure in full form, I quiver at my outcome

My heart begins to pound deep within me like a drum

As my mind races, thinking of places to hide

I cannot seem to escape what I am thinking inside

I am going to die alone, with nothing but my pride

I cannot hide any longer, no matter how much I tried

I cannot ask for atonement for the damage done

I wish I was not a broken man, I wish I could run

I wish I had someone here to help, just someone

I could call upon for help, or at least a gun

A weapon with which I could make what comes easier

I wish that I could end my strife

I tremble at the approach of the releaser

As my horror could be carved through with a knife

Bleak as it may, the end will not come with ease

My fear of the reaper comes not without conflict

My soul is what it has come to reap

And my body is what it must now evict

The new age of the newcomer, I feel as I shake

Ice cold, the figure will laugh as my bones break

My place is what the newcomer shall take

As I die beneath its wake