The Reaper

I know, I’m not supposed to talk to you.
I’ll just shut up, but I’m thinking…
Not much else to do…just think…
And watch you work.
What a job you do…
We’re all on the chopping block.
You’ve been busy.
Nana, Grandpa, Irene,
Uncle Len, Uncle Lucien-
Wow- cousin Jennifer…
Never saw that coming.
You looked at me once…
Gave my Mom a nervous breakdown.
Maybe you never had gloves on…but if you did…
You took them off- got Mom and Dad.
I know- we’re nothing-
The paper is full every day.
But I think…
So I can’t help notice…
Who you plan for next.
What a sweet lady…
And you are being creative…
A horrible fall…
Maybe an amputation…
Before you finish her off.
Her daughter cries, pleads, begs…
And prays.
I don’t understand human denial…
Like that can help.
It has a 100% failure rate.
People still say, “If I die…”
As if you need entertainment.
I hear you laughing at them…
But not at me.
There is nothing I can do…
But feel very sorry-
That you know I have a child.

John H. Bidwell