Challenge
Challenge of the Week LXVIV
Write a conversation with the person, fictional, historical, or currently breathing, that you'd most like to meet. Winner(s) will be featured in our weekly newsletter and homepage, as determined by the Prose team based on writing skill and creative edge.
They call me Death
I am the Reaper,
they call me Death.
Some call me a Monster,
ready to pounce.
Their fear of the Unknown,
laughable when in the Sun.
But in the dark when truth arises,
they cry and scheme,
writing their wills.
Some live their life in fear of me,
hiding in false security.
They daren’t try anything,
lest I should arrive at their back door
They say I crouch awaiting,
sapping joy and hope from all.
But really, I’m the truth itself,
a grim reminder of temporarilty.
I am the Reaper,
they call me death.
Won’t they love me so much more,
if they lived and loved with no regrets?
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