His soul clanged to lifeless body,
His breath low, dazed and gloomy,
A thin curve on his lips,
Hugged by death, yet the smile slips.
And the Reaper stood by his side,
through his holocaust cloak, eyes gleamed sharp
carrying his scythe larger than life
He asked the soul why it still did bind?
The soul replied in turn,
for it didn't feel the way,
Nor do exist touch nor the pain,
neither the blowing air, nor the scent,
but just the coldness of your scythe ahead
It's only the body, now that remains
that reminds me of her
of how it felt,
to breathe her in and never let go
in those arms, It felt like home again.
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