The Visitor

When he comes-

You fight.

The Angel,

Fallen,

Leans over you.
His stench
Offends the nose;
His appearance
Your eyes hold.
Giving you the kiss
You gag.
Pushing him away
Your hands land
On tattered robes
And deteriorating bones.
Wings of death
Around you close.
His scythe-
Your neck it knows.
His merciless laugh
Like a crow's.
Your eyes
In his deathly throughs.
Your beating heart
He holds.
Blood runs cold-
Now you know
This world
No longer is yours.