Reaper’s Little Drummer Boy

My reaper’s little drummer boy 

Made of bones and string

Dressed in red and green

Beating his drum to the march of death

Fire scorching his ankles on the bridge to the end

He beats his drum to the march of death

Hair falling and eyes burning left with no breath

His hands stitched with hair, creaked and cracked 

My little drummer boy 

Dressed in the garb of red and green flames.

Marches to the beat of his own drum,

His carrying song beats through Eden.

Down the hills and through the fields

All the way to the throne.

Hades judging the souls tipped an ear to the rhythm.

No pain would save the dead

From the rhythm running through their bones

My little drummer boy

Falling apart at the seams

dropping and crumbling

His ashes and bones sinking to the river 

His drum rolled to the throne leaving silence in its wake

Persephone tears were forsaken for his making

his path all the way to death’s door.

Oh my little drummer boy 

How you leave ashes in your wake

This is a piece I wrote about a year ago and had someone else post because I didn’t want to share it myself. I’ve changed a bit over the year and whether it’s good or bad I’m going to post it because I like it