Challenge
Death impersonated pays you a visit. How do you greet him/her?
Poetry or prose, 100 words max. Tag me.
Death comes to my door
I always imagined my death would have just been more.
More magical, more spiritual, or a dramatic ending with my wrists feeling slashed up and sore.
I imagined I'd ride on the highway to hell considering the fact that in gods eyes I'm considered a whore.
But instead, death came with just a little bit of dread.
In my doorway through the window, I saw the face of death.
The grim reaper turned out to be real
his appearance leaves me feeling surreal.
With no words he motions for me to come.
I obediently followed, Because I am death's son.
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