THE DEATH WAITS

Death waits among the horizon and yet I'm not afraid. I wait and wait he does not come he stands and mocks me as if I were nothing special to him but a lonely useless soul. I wait and look at him waiting for him to come near, and yet he mocks me with his scythe swinging it about. I stair and stand looking at him with my angered eyes. Before I know it I'm running towered him like a fool angered for the long wait he has given me. My senses heighten as I get closer to him, I hear a small melody play, for now I know why I was angry and impatient I was waiting for my turn to dance with the reaper.