THE GUARDIAN

THE GUARDIAN

A collector of sorts,
A death's head smile
As he gathers the children
And walks the last mile.

Little dead children
Zombie-like in a trance;
Stand together like trophies
Of the last Devil's dance.

A guardian of souls
Who had so much to live for,
He feels no remorse
As he opens death's door.

Hold fast to your children!
Don't let Death come in!
Yet we are but mortals
Conceived in sin.

No hope for the children,
They just walk along -
So sweet death's melody;
How deadly his song.

The guardian gathers
His wards and moves on.
Pausing only to add more;
By morning they're gone.

Poor little people
In the clutches of Death;
He comes silent at night
And steals their last breath.

Feel the fear and the torment
Of parents who paid the cost -
Those who do not cherish
See their children lost.

Yet just for fun,
Death comes to us all.
And despite our love,
We lose to the call

Of the guardian...