My Lady Calls Me
Death is calling me;
Her sweet voice I cannot ignore.
She beckons me with one slender,
pale finger
Adorned with The Moonstone ring.
She carries the knife
-with which to slice away my
useless, broken body.
She holds the silver spoon
-with which to dig out my pure,
white soul.
She stands upon the scales,
-with which She uses to test my
worth.
Will I pass the test?
Will I be granted entrance into
Her Home?
Death is calling me; She shall be
kept waiting no more.
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