Poem: Your Mr. Grim Reaper

Your Mr. Grim Reaper, 
some say he's a keeper, 
and other's a bag of bones. 
Our lady vampire, 
who lives in the spire, 
condemns with her careful tones.
The doctor cooks dinner
and Will now grows thinner.
He better not cast more stones.

But I am the sleeper
who stares in the fire, 
and like them a sinner
whose deeds he disowns.