Poem -

The End

Rich or poor

Good or bad

Clever or foolish

Happy or sad

No distinction

Grim Reaper has

The great leveller

None shall pass

Cloaked in black

Scythe in hand

Shall Strike you down

On his command

He cometh for you

In the dead of night

Ready or willing

You’re in for a fright

Whether quick

Whether slow

The shadowed horseman

Shall take your soul

And from this plane

Your soul to keep

Eternally

You shall sleep

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