Jalio was my inspiration for this, though it does her own poem no justice (Since it stinks. Really bad). Thank you Jalio ^_^

Beneath the tattered black hood
The black abyss is bleak
Scrawny, skin and bones
Death himself stands tall

What is really under that hood?
The rumored black abyss?
Or a broken soul, lost without a trace?
Hood pulled back, Death before us stands

Dull green eyes, emotionless and cold
Pale skin, unmarked and thin
Stringy hair, the color of dried mud
Petite and sick, Death stares straight ahead

Leaning heavily on her scythe
The broken still stands tall
Death will not be beaten
Oh no, she will not fall