I am Death

Tender I in rising be
Among the fields where humans are
Going about their merry ways
Uncaring of the consequences
Multiply do they
In abandon
Full of glee
For what they sow
Not so true
With what they reap

When I come to claim
What I am destined
To take
They scream and kick
Against the post
Imbibing in portions
All so useless
When the time comes
Nothing still my scythe
To pluck to cut or merely  take

I come not in my full splendour
I come within a simple whisper
Times up I say
And lead you away
I come with the roar of trucks
I come with the water bubbles
I come in induced dreams
In fiery conflagration
Indeed I come in many forms
But not the hooded scythed
Groaning figment most depicted.