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Death's Prize
Death’s Prize
Death crumbles in my hand, as I stand before the gate of mystery,
Many deaths, many moons, many things I have seen through out history.
I am life, I am death, I am weak, I am strong, I am the sword piercing your eye,
On the black wings of a raven, I soar through the sky gathering souls that I find.
Tall shades of gray I see beyond me, I live in a world of darkness, shaded from light,
Lifeless trees adorn the landscape, where my body lies, many souls, from me take flight.
I will haunt you forever till your soul is mine, my blood red eyes will hypnotize,
You can not escape me no matter, it has been foretold you will be my prize.
Cynthia Clark
