Of Death

Where Hades sings of morose woes, Where River Styx, in silence flows, There lurks a specter, cloaked in gloom, Death, the harbinger of impending doom. With icy touch, he rends apart, The fabric of life, the beating heart. He shatters dreams with ruthless delight, Leaving naught but misery in his blight. O'er barren lands, his shadow looms, Devouring joy, dispelling blooms. In every tear, in every sigh, His laughter lingers, never to die. Widows weep, and orphans wail, As Death's cold grip leaves no avail. He snuffs out stars, he dims the light, Leaving naught but endless night. A mournful dirge fills the air, As Death claims all with merciless flair. And on the shores of Lithe, we mourn, For all that Death has cruelly torn. Oh, Death, thou art a relentless foe, Bringing kingdoms low with every blow. Thy reign, a tyranny of sorrow, With no hope for a bright morrow.