[ WP ] You begin to have the sneaking suspicion that Death *likes* you

Out of night came this blight, 
 
 A visage that bounds in moon's light. 
 
 Face iron cast, forged without haste 
 
 She aims to thrill me, chill me, 
 
 Anything but kill me. 
 
 And as she whispers my name, 
 
 I know this is no game. 
 
 
 **I am death's crush. ** 
 
 
 I call her name, it's a tomblike hush. 
 
 I can reach out and touch her skin, 
 
 And then I should kiss her lips thin. 
 
 
 **Is it my sin if I am to win? ** 
 
 
 We throw ourselves into lust, 
 
 Then she leaves my arms as dust. 
 
 She whispers once more: 
 
 
 **Work is such a chore, 
 I hardly have time for fun. 
 We'll share but one last kiss - from the barrel of a gun. 
 Only with your head blown apart 
 Can you join me in my heart. ** 
 
 Okay so it needs work but that's what five minutes half asleep gets me.
