Death's Coin

I am hated by many, loved by few,
Bloody tracks behind me of those I slew,
On a black horse, continuing my dooming stride,
With my coin, collecting souls as I ride.
The sky is black, and the light is gone,
galloping towards the running fools,
My green eyes of hate banishing the sun,
Basking in the fear of everything that moves.
The coin of fate is flipping in the air,
Your eyes shaking in unspoken terror,
My eternal smile you cannot bear,
Nor the truth that never met an error.
If the skull is hit, then you will die,
If the cross shows up, it only slows your fate,
Do not squeal, my tools do not lie,
And if you indeed escape, your pain shall be great.
I am the harbinger for my unholy kingdom,
Laughing at those who cling to a dead saint,
A serious challenge from you is so seldom,
The living weeping as I spread my taint.
Even angel’s wings cannot resist my coin,
My shadowy cloak hiding hope,
I shall open your foolish Jesus’ groin,
Laughing hysterically as I crush this blissful slope.
None can stand against my scythe,
As I collect the souls of paragons and crooks,
When I slaughter and smite, I am indeed blithe,
As I burn the peace of all nooks.
Ha, look at you all,
Trying to defy my skeletal hand,
Yet you always meet your grisly fall,
And join my bony land.
I am Death, the lord of your demise,
An eternal horror is what you see,
Challenging me is unwise,
For my scythe shall always cut through thee!