Fate and Death are forever intertwined,
Opposing, conflicting forces,
They take part in a fantastic duel,
Till the end of time.
Fate is young and slender,
Coursing with everlasting life,
Always with his feet on the ground,
And his eyes to the sky.
Death is a bulky relic,
Like an unlucky cookie,
He is crumbling apart,
A forgotten memory on the tip of the tongue.
They walk solemnly,
1...2...3,
Gun in hand,
They turn in somber harmony.
The shots are fired,
Fate is victor,
Death is buried in a nameless grave,
And the cycle begins anew.
Over time,
Fate becomes the bulky relic,
He slowly transforms into Death,
And the cycle begins anew.
The vital cycle continues,
The bullets never run dry,
It is the price we pay,
For eternal life.
*This is by far one of the weirdest poems I've ever made. It is very slightly based on a Twilight Zone called Mr. Denton on Doomsday. Have fun!!!!!
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