The Reaping Clock

Death walks in sync with the ticking of a clock
But this clock has no numbers, just a steady mock
Fangs bared, it stalks its prey in the eternal night
A crypt of shadows, where the living take flight

The key is turning, the lock about to break
As the sands of time sink, with each step it takes
A void of emptiness, where the soul is lost
In the eternal dance, at whatever cost

The ticking echoes through the hallways of the dead
A symphony of sorrow, in which we are wed
The clock has no numbers, but it marks our fate
A never-ending cycle, of life and death's debate

So let us embrace the darkness, and the end that draws near
For in the void of eternal night, death is always here