The Butcher

Colorblind, undiscerning, he sees not love, he sees not hate.
In the end he’ll collect us all, he does not discriminate.
Sinners, saints, rich or poor, men without conscience, she who atones,
He butchers paupers and peasants and harvests kings from their thrones.
Worldly possessions be damned. He is not enticed by raw lust.
He is incorruptible, methodical, moral and just.
There is nothing certain in this world, but in Death we can trust.
He anticipates impartially our expiration date.
We are identical in his eyes, merely flesh upon bone.
Our destiny is equal, ashes to ashes, dust to dust.



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