What is death

His touch as cold as the snow
His hand nothing but bone
His head only a skull
His sythe red as a rose

Nobody want to see him
Because what his visits mean
But some call upon him
When life is nothing but misery

He consumes you in darkness
Until your final breath
He laughs at your weakness
While he watches the last breath leave your chest

Some try to run
While others try to hide
But nobody can get away
From this beast without a name

Some call him satan
While some call him the reaper
But nobody really knows
What his name truly is