I am the one who bears final judgment,
He who shows no mercy at all.
A death delivered with cruel torment,
Watched in silence as doomed men fall.
I bear the burden others fear to touch,
As my axe becomes a bloodied scythe.
Yet a king’s duty permits not much —
I wear a mask, a face of blithe.
Still, what I fear is morning glory,
For time does not remain, but passes.
I heed this command for kin and family,
Paid in blood — the blood of masses.
Thus, this is my duty — the calling of the reaper,
Where all depart, yet horror stays.
If I could redeem even the grim keeper,
That he might walk within holy rays.
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Author:
Raunak Sarkar (
Offline) - Published: May 24th, 2026 10:39
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 4
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments1
Deep thought here in justice, duty, redemption personified. Well written and a fave
Thank you very much
You are most welcome Raunak
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