Death

He has a staff tipped with a blade,
And a finger that kills,
A skull without skin,
And he'll give you chills.

He has a jet black cloak,
And no eyes to see,
He lives in the shadows,
And you will never find thee.

He has nothing mortal,
Not even ears,
Don't bother even screaming,
No one will ever hear.

He has his list,
And everyone is on it,
New ones added daily,
Each one he will hit.

When he gets to you,
You wont even know,
Until your in a grave,
Covered already with snow.