Chapter V: Aphotic Poets

Chapter V: Aphotic Poets The Creepy Dark Realm of Today's Top 10 Gothic Poets & follow us on Instagram!! Looked for Ethereals..
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We to 10, we searched the USA in Boston, Orleans, Providence, Maine, Maryland, & Europe. https://www.instagram.com/aphoticone?igsh=MXZvdjUzb2hpNGdneA== We are a reclusive group and collection of Gothic poets who work in secrecy and keep this very personal and to ours hearts. We were all secretly approached to start something new on a grand scale of Aphotic Poetry and taking things to the darkside, ethereal, and gothside...

The Creature with Diamond Red Eyes & ...Four thousand years beneath the stone,Before the oldest kings were known,A namel...
09/12/2026

The Creature with Diamond Red Eyes & ...

Four thousand years beneath the stone,
Before the oldest kings were known,
A nameless terror learned to breathe
Where blackness slept beneath the heath.

No star had touched its prison deep,
No sunlight woke it from its sleep;
Inside a cave of endless night,
It dreamed with eyes of crimson light.

Two diamonds burned within its skull,
Red as a kingdom's sunset dull;
They pierced the darkness, sharp and bright—
The ancient Diamond Red Eyes.

They did not blink.

They did not close.

They watched where no living creature goes.

And those who met their crimson glare
Were never found returning there.

Its cave was carved through mountains old,
A throat of darkness, black and cold;
The walls were wet with ancient rain
And whispered softly through the stone.

Deep in that hollow, far below,
Where neither moon nor daylight glow,
A monstrous shadow stood concealed—

A nightmare never fully revealed.

VII

Ten feet tall when fully raised,
With limbs that ancient darkness praised;
Its shoulders scraped the cavern roof
As silence followed every move.

VIII

Behind its back, enormous wings
Were folded like forgotten things;
Their leathery edges, torn and wide,
Could hide the moon and swallow skies.

IX

Its tail was long, scaled black as coal,
A dragon's weapon, wild and old;
It dragged across the cavern floor
Like something knocking at Death's door.

X

Each scale was hard as burial stone,
Forged in an age the world had known;
And along its spine, like broken blades,
Rose jagged bones through shadowed shades.

XI

Its claws were curved like crescent moons,
Sharpened beneath forgotten tombs;
They scraped the rocks with dreadful sound
And carved deep wounds into the ground.

XII

But none were worse than what it wore
Behind the darkness of its jaw;
A mouth that opened far too wide—

A black abyss with teeth inside.

XIII

Its teeth were pale and uneven things,
Like shattered bones of ancient kings;
They closed with hunger, snapped with speed,
And answered only when they fed.

XIV

They say one minute.

No more.

Sixty seconds upon the floor.

And all that stood where flesh had been
Would vanish deep beneath its grin.

XV

No scream could travel from its cave.
No prayer could make the victim brave.
For once those Diamond Red Eyes shone—

You understood you were alone.

XVI

The oldest myths were carved in clay,
Four thousand years before today;
They spoke of wings beneath the earth
And something waiting for rebirth.

XVII

Its name was lost before it grew
Into the stories people knew;
The ancient scribes refused to write
The final symbols of its title.

XVIII

Instead, they drew two crimson stones
Above a pile of scattered bones;
And underneath, one warning lay:

DO NOT ENTER. DO NOT STAY.

XIX

Centuries turned.

The empires fell.

The creature slept inside its hell.

But underneath the mountain's heart,

Its hunger never fell apart.

XX

Then came the days of swords and kings,
Of castles, banners, crowns, and rings;
The medieval world began to hear
Of something filling nights with fear.

XXI

A shepherd vanished near the hill.
The sheep remained.

The night was still.

But crimson lights were seen below—

Two burning diamonds in the snow.

XXII

A knight rode out with sword and shield,
Believing courage could not yield;
He entered through the mountain's mouth—

And never came returning out.

XXIII

At dawn they found his shattered blade,
Half-buried where the darkness stayed;
Across the stone were claw marks deep—

And something moving in the deep.

XXIV

The monks recorded what they knew
Of wings that crossed the midnight blue;
A shadow larger than a tower
That circled castles in the hour.

XXV

They rang the bells.

They locked the gates.

They begged their gods to change their fates.

But something landed in the trees—

And silence swallowed every plea.

XXVI

For centuries, the story died.
The world moved on.

The legends lied—

Or so they said to calm their fear

And keep the ancient darkness clear.

XXVII

But caves remember every sound.
And mountains keep what they have found.
Four thousand years cannot erase
A creature hidden in one place.

XXVIII

Then recently, beneath the stone,
A sound was heard that chilled the bone;
A scraping deep beneath the ground—

A dragon's tail without a sound.

XXIX

The earth began to split at night.
The animals refused the light.
And birds flew from the mountain side
As something ancient woke inside.

###

Two lights appeared within the black.

Then vanished.

Then they both came back.

Red diamonds burning through the gloom—

Announcing something had left its tomb.

###I

The cave no longer held it tight.
The darkness opened to the night.
Its wings unfolded, vast and grim—

And ancient skies remembered him.

###II

Ten feet of nightmare stood upright,
Its scales consuming every light;
Its dragon tail swept through the trees
And brought the branches to their knees.

###III

Its wings beat once.

The valley shook.

The river trembled in its brook.

And from the mountains came a cry
That made the bravest horses fly.

###IV

No hunter saw its entire form.
It moved like darkness in a storm.
One moment there—

Then nothing stood

Except two diamonds in the wood.

###V

Those eyes would shine between the trees,
Above the graves, beneath the leaves;
And travelers learned too late to run

When the creature's hunt had begun.

###VI

It never rushed with mindless rage.
It hunted slowly.

Patient.

Strange.

It let its victims hear it near—

Then vanished when they turned in fear.

###VII

A branch would crack.

A shadow moved.

A distant wing above the grove.

Then silence would return again—

And terror entered every man.

###VIII

The cryptic warnings had returned,
On ancient walls that somehow burned:

WHEN RED DIAMONDS LIGHT THE NIGHT,
THE MOUNTAIN GIVES ITS CHILDREN FLIGHT.

###IX

WHEN WINGS OF BLACKNESS CROSS THE MOON,
THE HOUR OF CARNAGE COMES TOO SOON.
WHEN THE DRAGON TAIL LEAVES STONE—
THE ANCIENT HUNGER WALKS ALONE.

XL

Nobody knew what woke the beast.
Nobody knew what started the feast.
Perhaps the mountain called its name—

Or perhaps the world forgot its shame.

XLI

Now villages whisper after dark.
No one travels past the park.
For sometimes, high above the trees,

Two Diamond Red Eyes watch with ease.

XLII

And sometimes deep beneath the ground,
A monstrous scraping can be found;
As if the creature has returned

To where its ancient hunger burned.

XLIII

The old ones say it cannot die.
They say it waits beneath the sky.
And every thousand years or more—

It comes to feed and settle scores.

XLIV

Sixty seconds.

That's all they say.

One minute before you're swept away.

One moment standing, breathing free—

The next, forgotten history.

XLV

So if you find a cave of black
Where daylight never travels back,
And hear a wing scrape through the stone—

Do not believe that you're alone.

XLVI

If something watches from the deep,
Do not awaken what may sleep.
For Diamond Red Eyes do not shine

Unless they've chosen you as mine.

XLVII

Four thousand years.

The legend grows.

From ancient dust to medieval snow.

And now the darkness speaks once more—

The creature walks beyond its door.

XLVIII

So when the moon turns pale and dead,
And mountains glow with burning red,
Remember what the ancients said:

"THE DIAMOND EYES ARE NEVER DEAD."

For somewhere underneath the sky,
Where black-winged nightmares crawl and fly,
A ten-foot shadow hunts unseen—

A dragon-tailed, eternal fiend.

And if two crimson diamonds gleam...

PRAY THAT YOU ARE ONLY DREAMING.

©2026 Chapter V: Aphotic Poets

The Reaper Comes Half SixWhen midnight fades and shadows mix,The Reaper comes at half past six;No knocking sound, no war...
09/12/2026

The Reaper Comes Half Six

When midnight fades and shadows mix,
The Reaper comes at half past six;
No knocking sound, no warning cry—
Just death beneath a blackened sky.

His footsteps fall where candles die,
Beneath the moon's unblinking eye;
And every clock begins to slow
When Hell decides it's time to know.

He wears a cloak of endless night,
Where dying stars have lost their light;
His skeletal fingers tightly hold
A sickle dark and deathly cold.

Its blade has tasted countless years,
And carved its path through mortal fears;
It waits in silence, sharp and still—
A servant of eternal will.

For when your soul has wandered far,
Past every warning, prayer, and scar,
The Reaper watches from the gloom
And marks the hour that seals your doom.

Deep underneath the world of men,
Beyond the grave and back again,
The gates of Hell stand scorched and tall,
While screaming shadows stain the wall.

VII

The fires blaze without an end,
No rain can stop them, none can mend;
They climb through darkness, red and wild,
Like ancient hatred, undefiled.

VIII

The inferno lights the endless deep,
Where damned and demons never sleep;
Its flames illuminate the stone
Of Hell's enormous burning throne.

IX

There sits no mercy, soft or mild,
No comfort for the wicked child;
Only the furnace, vast and grim,
And shadows singing hymns to him.

X

Hell hath no fury, cold and black,
For those who think they'll journey back;
The gates swing shut with iron sound,
And leave the lost where none are found.

XI

The demons gather near the flame,
Each twisted thing without a name;
Their eyes like embers fiercely glow
Above the rivers far below.

XII

Their wings are torn like funeral cloth,
Their voices filled with ancient wrath;
They crawl through smoke on claw and bone
And claim the darkness as their own.

XIII

Some wear the faces that you knew,
Some whisper secrets once held true;
They call you gently through the haze—
Then vanish in the crimson blaze.

XIV

Others have horns like shattered crowns,
And crawl upside down through burning grounds;
Their grinning mouths stretch wide and thin
As they invite the sinners in.

XV

For Hell remembers every choice,
Every silence, every voice;
And every step toward darker things
Is heard beneath demonic wings.

XVI

The first great shadow whispers Pride,
And tells the heart that gods have lied;
"Bow to no one," the darkness cries—
While arrogance devours the skies.

XVII

The Reaper watches from afar
And sees the sinner's rising scar;
For Pride may build a throne so high—
But every throne will someday die.

XVIII

Then comes Greed with golden hands,
Promising kingdoms, crowns, and lands;
Yet every treasure turns to dust
When gold becomes the soul's own trust.

XIX

The deeper that the sinner falls,
The louder death begins to call;
For every coin and stolen prize
Reflects the Reaper's hollow eyes.

XX

Then Lust arrives in velvet smoke,
A tempting whisper, binding yoke;
It dances where the shadows spin
And beckons hungry hearts within.

XXI

But every path of reckless flame
Leaves ashes where desire once came;
And through those ashes, pale and grim,
The Reaper waits to follow him.

XXII

Then Envy crawls beneath the door,
Still wanting everything and more;
It hates the light another keeps
And feeds on bitterness that sleeps.

XXIII

Its demons have a thousand eyes
That glare at every borrowed prize;
They whisper, "Take what should be yours,"
And open death's forgotten doors.

XXIV

Then comes Gluttony, hungry and wide,
With an endless emptiness inside;
No feast can fill the bottomless pit
Of appetites that never quit.

XXV

The banquet turns to smoke and bone,
The sinner eats yet stays alone;
And somewhere past the candle's gleam,
The Reaper sharpens through the dream.

XXVI

Then Wrath erupts like blackened fire,
A furnace built from blind desire;
It burns through reason, mercy, peace—
And feeds the flames that never cease.

XXVII

The demons cheer when anger grows,
For Wrath is where destruction flows;
Each furious word and hateful cry
Brings Death's dark shadow standing nigh.

XXVIII

And last comes Sloth, so soft and still,
The silent death of strength and will;
It whispers, "Wait another day,"
While life itself decays away.

XXIX

For sin is not a distant door,
But footsteps crossing something more;
And every time the darkness wins,
The Reaper counts the deadly sins.

###

One step deeper.

One breath more.

One shadow waiting by the door.

###I

You may not see him in the room,
You may not smell approaching doom;
But coldness settles in the air
Whenever Death is standing there.

###II

The clock continues ticking on,
You laugh and think the fear is gone;
But time is not a friend you own—
It walks beside Death's silent throne.

###III

And when you least expect his blade,
When all your plans have been displayed,
A shadow falls across your way—

And night arrives in brightest day.

###IV

The sickle rises without sound,
Its darkness swallowing the ground;
No mortal hand can stop its swing
When Death has come to collect its thing.

###V

The more you wander through the sins,
The sooner Death's dark counting begins;
Each choice becomes another thread
That pulls you closer to the dead.

###VI

Not every warning comes as fear,
Sometimes the Reaper whispers near;
A sudden chill, a dying flame—
A voice that softly speaks your name.

###VII

You turn around.

There stands no one.

The hallway darkens from the sun.

But somewhere just beyond your sight,

The Reaper smiles into the night.

###VIII

Down below, the inferno grows,
Through rivers where the fire flows;
The flames rise higher than the towers
And burn through everlasting hours.

###IX

There is no dawn beneath that sky,
No morning star, no reason why;
Only a crimson burning glow
Across the endless pits below.

XL

The demons dance around the flame,
Their laughter calling every name;
Their claws strike sparks from iron floors
Behind the black and burning doors.

XLI

Their shadows stretch across the stone,
Yet none of them are there alone;
For deeper still, where darkness grows,
A greater ancient terror knows.

XLII

It waits beneath the fires of Hell,
Inside a pit without a well;
Its breathing shakes the burning ground
And makes the damned fall silent down.

XLIII

Its eyes are flames without a face,
Its voice consumes all time and space;
And every demon, proud and wild,
Becomes before it just a child.

XLIV

Yet even demons fear the sound
Of metal scraping underground;
For when the Reaper walks below,
Even Hell itself will know.

XLV

His sickle gleams in infernal light,
A crescent carved from endless night;
The demons part and bow their heads—

For Death commands both damned and dead.

XLVI

Hell hath no fury like the flame
That rises when the Reaper came;
The inferno roars from every wall
And crimson darkness covers all.

XLVII

The burning skies begin to tear,
Ash and embers fill the air;
And every lost soul understands—

The hour has reached the Reaper's hands.

XLVIII

He does not hurry.

He does not run.

He knows that every race is won.

For time itself will bend and break
Before the dead can ever wake.

XLIX

So live believing you are free,
And walk wherever you may be;
But somewhere hidden from your sight,
Death measures every passing night.

L

He knows the secrets never told,
The hearts corrupted, bought, and sold;
He sees the darkness people hide
Behind the masks of human pride.

LI

And when the seventh shadow grows,
When every deadly hunger shows,
The sands inside your hourglass fall—

And Death begins to make his call.

LII

You may be sleeping peacefully,
Dreaming you have years to see;
Then suddenly the candles dim—

And something stands beside your bed.

LIII

You may be walking in the rain,
Laughing through your joy and pain;
Then every sound begins to cease—

And Death arrives without release.

LIV

For the sickle comes when least expected,
No warning sent, no soul protected;
One moment life is burning bright—

The next belongs to endless night.

LV

And as the sinner's time grows thin,
The Reaper hears the call of sin;
The deeper into darkness one strays,
The closer come those final days.

LVI

His cloak will move across your door,
His shadow stretch across the floor;
And when you hear that silent breath—

You'll know you've been embraced by Death.

LVII

At half past six, beneath the sky,
The ravens gather, shadows fly;
And somewhere every evening falls
A distant sickle softly calls.

The bells may ring.

The candles burn.

But some who leave will not return.

The hour arrives, the darkness sticks—

The Reaper comes at half past six.

Below, Hell's fires still blaze and rise,
Reflecting in ten thousand eyes;
The inferno lights that cursed domain
With endless fury, endless pain.

No water cools those burning seas,
No voice can bring the damned to peace;
The flames continue, fierce and bright,
Forever feeding on the night.

The demons stand beneath the glow,
Their monstrous silhouettes below;
They raise their claws toward burning skies
And howl where every mercy dies.

Yet through that fire, beyond that sound,
The Reaper walks on scorched black ground;
His sickle trailing sparks behind—

The final keeper of mankind.

He comes for kings.

He comes for thieves.

For those who curse and those who grieve.

No crown can shield, no fortress save

The mortal heart from Death's dark grave.

And those who feed the seven flames,
Who give their souls to darker games,
May hear his footsteps drawing near—

Long before they think to fear.

So when the clock reaches half past six,
And shadows crawl like serpents mix,
Do not assume the night is through—

For Death may already be watching you.

The fires blaze for all eternity,
The inferno burns relentlessly;
And when your final moment's done,
There is nowhere left for you to run.

The sickle falls.

The darkness comes.

The bells of Hell begin their drums.

For when your time has reached its fix—

THE REAPER COMES HALF SIX.

The Desert of Death...Beyond the world where daylight dies,There stretches sand beneath black skies;A barren sea, untouc...
09/12/2026

The Desert of Death...

Beyond the world where daylight dies,
There stretches sand beneath black skies;
A barren sea, untouched by breath—
The endless Desert of Death.

II

No vulture circles overhead,
No living thing survives unfed;
The wind alone gives mournful sound
And drags old bones across the ground.

III

The dunes rise high like frozen waves,
Their valleys filled with nameless graves;
Each grain of sand remembers screams
That haunt the dying in their dreams.

IV

At dusk the burning heavens bleed,
And shadows crawl where travelers tread;
For underneath the shifting land
Something waits beneath the sand.

V

You will not see its eyes appear.
You will not hear it drawing near.
No warning comes, no shape is shown—
Until the earth devours your own.

VI

A footstep falls.

The silence breaks.

The desert shudders.

Something wakes.

VII

The sand will ripple at your heel,
A movement nothing human feels;
Then suddenly the ground gives way,
And sunlight vanishes from day.

VIII

A hand erupts—but not a hand,
A claw of bone beneath the sand;
Its fingers long and jointed wrong,
Its nails like hooks, rust-black and strong.

IX

They never rise to face the sun.
They hunt beneath it, one by one.
Their kingdoms lie where darkness feeds,
Below the graves of buried seeds.

X

Their mouths are buried far below,
Where ancient underground rivers flow;
Yet hunger travels through the ground
And follows every living sound.

XI

The wanderer runs across the dune,
Beneath the pale and dying moon;
But every step becomes a prayer
To something breathing underneath there.

XII

Then ankles vanish.

Sand erupts.

The screaming stops—

The desert shuts.

XIII

For deep beneath the burning waste,
The creatures feed without a face;
Their bodies twist through tunnels tight,
Pale horrors hidden from the light.

XIV

They have no eyes that mortals see,
Yet know exactly where you'll be;
They taste your footsteps through the earth
And measure every breath's faint worth.

XV

Their skin is gray like drowned men's flesh,
Split open, scarred, and hanging fresh;
But none who see them live to tell—
For sight itself descends to hell.

XVI

Their teeth are not arranged in rows,
But spiral where the darkness grows;
A grinding tunnel lined with bone
That pulls the screaming body down.

XVII

Their tongues are pale and slick and thin,
Like worms that search beneath your skin;
They taste the blood within your veins
And twitch with hunger at your pain.

XVIII

They wait beneath the sleeping dunes
Through burning days and blood-red moons;
They never hunger for the dead—
They crave the living flesh instead.

XIX

The oldest bones are buried deep,
Where even nightmares dare not sleep;
For something larger moves below—
A thing the smaller creatures know.

XX

When it awakens, dunes will sway.
The buried tunnels tear away.
And from beneath the endless waste
Comes hunger without form or face.

XXI

It does not climb into the night.
It does not need the moon's pale light.
Its jaws are somewhere underground,
Yet miles away they hear the sound.

XXII

A traveler hears a muffled cry—
A voice beneath him asking why.
He kneels to listen through the sand.

Then something grips him by the hand.

XXIII

His fingers claw against the ground,
His nails leave trenches all around;
But sand pours over face and chest
And drags him downward with the rest.

XXIV

His mouth fills up with burning grit.
His lungs begin to choke on it.
Below him something pulls with strength
That stretches terror into length.

XXV

He screams—but sand consumes the sound.
His friends stand helplessly around.
They watch his body disappear
While something whispers in their ear.

XXVI

"Come closer."

Soft beneath the dune.

"Come closer."

Underneath the moon.

XXVII

The desert learns the voices stolen
From those whose final prayers were broken;
It calls their names through grains of sand
And reaches upward from the land.

XXVIII

Some creatures have a thousand limbs,
Each pale and slick, each sharp and thin;
They wrap around the falling prey
And drag the struggling flesh away.

XXIX

Some have enormous hollow throats
Where shattered bones and skulls will float;
Their stomachs churn with teeth and stone,
Grinding every victim down to bone.

###

Others are smaller, blind, and quick,
With swollen mouths that open thick;
They swarm through cracks beneath your feet
And leave no time for you to flee.

###I

You may feel something brush your shoe,
A cold and crawling touch on you;
You may look down and see no sign—

Then suddenly, you're pulled inside.

###II

The surface closes like a grave.
No hand can reach. No friend can save.
The desert smooths its golden skin
And hides the nightmare trapped within.

###III

By morning, nothing shows the place
Where terror swallowed every trace;
Only a footprint, half erased,
And silence in the empty waste.

###IV

But sometimes, when the wind is still,
The dunes themselves seem strangely ill;
They rise and sink as something vast
Moves underneath the sands so fast.

###V

The old nomads refused to roam
Where certain dunes had made their home;
They said beneath those hills of gold
Were mouths too ancient to be told.

###VI

They marked the places with no names
And warned of sands that burned like flames;
For fire above was not the threat—

But what was buried underneath.

###VII

At night, the desert sometimes groans.
The sound is deep as cracking bones.
And every dune begins to shake
When something ancient starts to wake.

###VIII

Then all the creatures cease their hunt.
The smaller horrors disappear.
For even monsters understand
What crawls beneath the deeper sand.

###IX

A mountain moves.

A valley splits.

The earth itself begins to twist.

And somewhere underneath the ground,
A colossal mouth begins to sound.

XL

Its hunger has no end or name.
Its throat consumes both flesh and flame.
And those who vanish in its deep
Are swallowed where no souls can sleep.

XLI

So if you cross that desert wide
When dying daylight starts to hide,
Do not trust quiet beneath your feet—

For silence there is never peace.

XLII

Do not dig.

Do not kneel.

Do not listen when the sands reveal
The voices of the long-dead lost
Whose lives became the desert's cost.

XLIII

Keep walking when the dunes begin
To breathe beneath your trembling skin;
And if the ground should call your name—

Run.

Though running is the same.

XLIV

For somewhere underneath the sand,
A thousand horrors wait, unmanned;
They never show themselves above—

They pull you down.

They swallow you whole.

And when the desert becomes still again,
There is nothing left to prove you came.

Only the wind.

Only the sand.

Only Death's eternal land...

©2026 Chapter V: Aphotic Poets

You Will Reap What You Sow, Shall Karma Get You For What You Have Done...They walked away laughing, hands clean, pockets...
09/11/2026

You Will Reap What You Sow, Shall Karma Get You For What You Have Done...

They walked away laughing, hands clean, pockets full,
While you bled in the silence, broken and dull.
They swore it was nothing, they swore you were weak,
But the ledger of heavens keeps track of the meek.

They stole what you earned, they lied through their teeth,
They buried your truth in a grave underneath.
They danced on your sorrow, they feasted on pain,
And thought they were safe from the coming of rain.

But karma is patient, karma is cold,
It waits in the shadows, it watches, it holds.
It counts every whisper, it notes every sin,
And when the time ripens, the Reaper comes in.

No trumpet announces, no warning is sent,
Just a chill in the marrow, a breath poorly spent.
The air grows too heavy, the light turns to gray,
And the Karmic Reaper arrives for the prey.

His scythe is not iron, his cloak is not cloth,
But the weight of each betrayal, each promise, each oath.
His eyes are the mirrors of all they have done,
Reflecting the harm they believed they outrun.

He comes for the liar who smiled to your face,
Who twisted your words in a venomous chase.
He comes for the thief who took more than their share,
Who left you with nothing but emptiness there.

He comes for the cruel who laughed at your tears,
Who fed on your trembling, who thrived on your fears.
He comes for the betrayer who sold you for gold,
Whose heart turned to winter, whose conscience grew cold.

The first to be taken was she who deceived,
Who swore she was faithful, yet constantly cheated.
He found her in mirrors that shattered to glass,
Each shard showing moments she thought would not pass.

Her skin turned to parchment, her hair turned to ash,
Her voice became whispers that cut like a lash.
She begged for forgiveness, but none could be heard,
For the Reaper speaks only in action, not word.

The next was the brother who stole from your kin,
Who took what was yours and called it a win.
He woke in a cellar of bones and of rust,
Where coins turned to maggots and treasures to dust.

His fingers grew crooked, his palms split and bled,
Each coin he had stolen now branded his head.
He screamed for his mother, but she did not come,
For the Reaper had silenced each voice and each drum.

Then came the false friend who whispered behind,
Who planted the poison, who twisted the mind.
He found himself trapped in a hall made of ears,
Each one hearing secrets he’d whispered for years.

The walls started breathing, the floor started shaking,
The voices grew louder, the silence was breaking.
He clawed at his own tongue, he tore at his throat,
But the words he had spoken now kept him afloat.

The Karmic Reaper moved on through the night,
Through cities of glass and through villages bright.
He found them in mansions, he found them in cars,
He found them beneath the cold, distant stars.

He found them in offices, temples, and courts,
In places where justice was twisted to sports.
He found them in bedrooms, in alleys, in beds,
Where they’d laid down their victims and counted their heads.

Each one thought they’d won, each one thought they were free,
But the Reaper had written their final decree.
No money could bribe him, no power could stay,
The debt that was due had to be paid that day.

One man had poisoned a rival with grace,
Then smiled at the funeral, wiped clean from his face.
The Reaper appeared as the w**e turned to blood,
And the man drowned in crimson, a permanent flood.

His lungs filled with liquid, his eyes bulged and burst,
The taste of his poison became his first curse.
He choked on the sweetness he’d offered with lies,
And died in the mirror of his own alibis.

One woman had ruined a sister’s good name,
Then built up her empire on slander and shame.
The Reaper came softly, a shadow, a breath,
And turned all her triumphs to monuments of death.

Her tongue swelled to stone, her lips cracked and split,
Each lie she had spoken now burned like a pit.
She tried to recant, but the words would not form,
As her body grew cold in the eye of the storm.

Another had beaten a child in the dark,
Then laughed as he walked away, leaving his mark.
The Reaper found him in a room without light,
Where every bruise he had given returned with full might.

His skin peeled in layers, his bones cracked in two,
Each strike he had dealt now struck him anew.
He begged for the darkness to swallow him whole,
But the Reaper kept count, and he took his full toll.

There was one who had starved you of love and of bread,
Who left you for dead while they feasted instead.
The Reaper came hungry, a hunger profound,
And fed them to shadows that crawled from the ground.

Their stomachs grew hollow, their throats turned to flame,
Each meal they had stolen now called out their name.
They ate and they ate, but they never were filled,
As the hunger they’d sown now their own bodies killed.

The Karmic Reaper does not hurry, does not rest,
He knows that the wicked feel safest when blessed.
He waits for the moment they lower their guard,
Then strikes with a lesson both serious and hard.

He teaches them pain that they thought they outran,
He shows them the cost of the harm they began.
He makes them feel every tear they have caused,
Every wound they have opened, every life they have crossed.

Some beg for their mothers, some beg for their gods,
Some offer their fortunes, their jewels, their rods.
But the Reaper takes nothing but what they have done,
And pays them in full when his work has begun.

He drags them through valleys of glass and of thorn,
Through fields where the crops are the souls they have torn.
He makes them walk backward through all of their sins,
Reliving each moment where cruelty begins.

They see every face that they hurt and betrayed,
They feel every wound that they casually made.
They hear every cry that they chose to ignore,
And the weight of it all breaks them down to the core.

Some turn into statues of salt and of stone,
Forever to stand where their cruelty shone.
Some turn into shadows that never can rest,
Forever to wander, forever unblest.

Some turn into mirrors that show only truth,
Reflecting the rot of their age and their youth.
Some turn into echoes that scream in the night,
Forever repeating the wrongs they thought right.

The Karmic Reaper does not judge, does not plead,
He simply enforces the karmic decree.
He is not a demon, he is not a saint,
He is balance restored, he is justice unfeigned.

He comes for the ones who have walked away clean,
Who thought they could hide what they truly had been.
He comes for the ones who have laughed at the pain,
Who thought they could profit from someone else’s stain.

He comes for the ones who have slept without fear,
Who thought that their victims would disappear.
He comes for the ones who have counted their gain,
While others counted losses, counted sorrow, counted rain.

And when he has finished, when all have been taught,
When every last lesson has painfully caught,
The world feels a little more balanced, more right,
As the Karmic Reaper departs in the night.

He leaves no trace behind but the silence he brings,
The quiet that follows the breaking of wings.
He leaves only echoes of justice fulfilled,
And the knowledge that karma can never be stilled.

So if you have suffered and thought it unfair,
If you have been broken and left to despair,
Know that the Reaper is patient and true,
And in time, he will come for the ones who hurt you.

They may walk away laughing, they may think they are free,
But the ledger of heavens keeps track meticulously.
And when the time ripens, when the balance is due,
The Karmic Reaper will come for them too.

He will teach them a lesson both serious and grave,
He will show them the cost of the pain they gave.
He will make them feel every tear they have caused,
Every wound they have opened, every life they have crossed.

And you, who have suffered, who have bled and have cried,
Will see them receive what they cannot hide.
For karma is patient, karma is cold,
And the Reaper collects what is rightfully owed.

So wait in the shadows, wait in the night,
Wait for the moment of karmic light.
The Reaper is coming, the Reaper is near,
And the ones who have hurt you will tremble in fear.

They will beg for their mothers, they will beg for their gods,
They will offer their fortunes, their jewels, their rods.
But the Reaper takes nothing but what they have done,
And pays them in full when his work has begun.

He will drag them through valleys of glass and of thorn,
Through fields where the crops are the souls they have torn.
He will make them walk backward through all of their sins,
Reliving each moment where cruelty begins.

They will see every face that they hurt and betrayed,
They will feel every wound that they casually made.
They will hear every cry that they chose to ignore,
And the weight of it all will break them to the core.

Some will turn into statues of salt and of stone,
Forever to stand where their cruelty shone.
Some will turn into shadows that never can rest,
Forever to wander, forever unblest.

Some will turn into mirrors that show only truth,
Reflecting the rot of their age and their youth.
Some will turn into echoes that scream in the night,
Forever repeating the wrongs they thought right.

The Karmic Reaper does not judge, does not plead,
He simply enforces the karmic decree.
He is not a demon, he is not a saint,
He is balance restored, he is justice unfeigned.

He comes for the ones who have walked away clean,
Who thought they could hide what they truly had been.
He comes for the ones who have laughed at the pain,
Who thought they could profit from someone else’s stain.

He comes for the ones who have slept without fear,
Who thought that their victims would disappear.
He comes for the ones who have counted their gain,
While others counted losses, counted sorrow, counted rain.

And when he has finished, when all have been taught,
When every last lesson has painfully caught,
The world feels a little more balanced, more right,
As the Karmic Reaper departs in the night.

He leaves no trace behind but the silence he brings,
The quiet that follows the breaking of wings.
He leaves only echoes of justice fulfilled,
And the knowledge that karma can never be stilled.

So if you have suffered and thought it unfair,
If you have been broken and left to despair,
Know that the Reaper is patient and true,
And in time, he will come for the ones who hurt you.

They may walk away laughing, they may think they are free,
But the ledger of heavens keeps track meticulously.
And when the time ripens, when the balance is due,
The Karmic Reaper will come for them too.

He will teach them a lesson both serious and grave,
He will show them the cost of the pain they gave.
He will make them feel every tear they have caused,
Every wound they have opened, every life they have crossed.

And you, who have suffered, who have bled and have cried,
Will see them receive what they cannot hide.
For karma is patient, karma is cold,
And the Reaper collects what is rightfully owed.

So wait in the shadows, wait in the night,
Wait for the moment of karmic light.
The Reaper is coming, the Reaper is near,
And the ones who have hurt you will tremble in fear.

They will beg for their mothers, they will beg for their gods,
They will offer their fortunes, their jewels, their rods.
But the Reaper takes nothing but what they have done,
And pays them in full when his work has begun.

He will drag them through valleys of glass and of thorn,
Through fields where the crops are the souls they have torn.
He will make them walk backward through all of their sins,
Reliving each moment where cruelty begins.

They will see every face that they hurt and betrayed,
They will feel every wound that they casually made.
They will hear every cry that they chose to ignore,
And the weight of it all will break them to the core.

Some will turn into statues of salt and of stone,
Forever to stand where their cruelty shone.
Some will turn into shadows that never can rest,
Forever to wander, forever unblest.

Some will turn into mirrors that show only truth,
Reflecting the rot of their age and their youth.
Some will turn into echoes that scream in the night,
Forever repeating the wrongs they thought right.

The Karmic Reaper does not judge, does not plead,
He simply enforces the karmic decree.
He is not a demon, he is not a saint,
He is balance restored, he is justice unfeigned.

He comes for the ones who have walked away clean,
Who thought they could hide what they truly had been.
He comes for the ones who have laughed at the pain,
Who thought they could profit from someone else’s stain.

He comes for the ones who have slept without fear,
Who thought that their victims would disappear.
He comes for the ones who have counted their gain,
While others counted losses, counted sorrow, counted rain.

And when he has finished, when all have been taught,
When every last lesson has painfully caught,
The world feels a little more balanced, more right,
As the Karmic Reaper departs in the night.

He leaves no trace behind but the silence he brings,
The quiet that follows the breaking of wings.
He leaves only echoes of justice fulfilled,
And the knowledge that karma can never be stilled.

So if you have suffered and thought it unfair,
If you have been broken and left to despair,
Know that the Reaper is patient and true,
And in time, he will come for the ones who hurt you.

They may walk away laughing, they may think they are free,
But the ledger of heavens keeps track meticulously.
And when the time ripens, when the balance is due,
The Karmic Reaper will come for them too.

He will teach them a lesson both serious and grave,
He will show them the cost of the pain they gave.
He will make them feel every tear they have caused,
Every wound they have opened, every life they have crossed.

And you, who have suffered, who have bled and have cried,
Will see them receive what they cannot hide.
For karma is patient, karma is cold,
And the Reaper collects what is rightfully owed.

So wait in the shadows, wait in the night,
Wait for the moment of karmic light.
The Reaper is coming, the Reaper is near,
And the ones who have hurt you will tremble in fear.

They will beg for their mothers, they will beg for their gods,
They will offer their fortunes, their jewels, their rods.
But the Reaper takes nothing but what they have done,
And pays them in full when his work has begun.

He will drag them through valleys of glass and of thorn,
Through fields where the crops are the souls they have torn.
He will make them walk backward through all of their sins,
Reliving each moment where cruelty begins.

They will see every face that they hurt and betrayed,
They will feel every wound that they casually made.
They will hear every cry that they chose to ignore,
And the weight of it all will break them to the core.

Some will turn into statues of salt and of stone,
Forever to stand where their cruelty shone.
Some will turn into shadows that never can rest,
Forever to wander, forever unblest.

Some will turn into mirrors that show only truth,
Reflecting the rot of their age and their youth.
Some will turn into echoes that scream in the night,
Forever repeating the wrongs they thought right.

The Karmic Reaper does not judge, does not plead,
He simply enforces the karmic decree.
He is not a demon, he is not a saint,
He is balance restored, he is justice unfeigned.

He comes for the ones who have walked away clean,
Who thought they could hide what they truly had been.
He comes for the ones who have laughed at the pain,
Who thought they could profit from someone else’s stain.

He comes for the ones who have slept without fear,
Who thought that their victims would disappear.
He comes for the ones who have counted their gain,
While others counted losses, counted sorrow, counted rain.

And when he has finished, when all have been taught,
When every last lesson has painfully caught,
The world feels a little more balanced, more right,
As the Karmic Reaper departs in the night.

He leaves no trace behind but the silence he brings,
The quiet that follows the breaking of wings.
He leaves only echoes of justice fulfilled,
And the knowledge that karma can never be stilled.

So if you have suffered and thought it unfair,
If you have been broken and left to despair,
Know that the Reaper is patient and true,
And in time, he will come for the ones who hurt you.

They may walk away laughing, they may think they are free,
But the ledger of heavens keeps track meticulously.
And when the time ripens, when the balance is due,
The Karmic Reaper will come for them too.

He will teach them a lesson both serious and grave,
He will show them the cost of the pain they gave.
He will make them feel every tear they have caused,
Every wound they have opened, every life they have crossed.

And you, who have suffered, who have bled and have cried,
Will see them receive what they cannot hide.
For karma is patient, karma is cold,
And the Reaper collects what is rightfully owed.

So wait in the shadows, wait in the night,
Wait for the moment of karmic light.
The Reaper is coming, the Reaper is near,
And the ones who have hurt you will tremble in fear.

They will beg for their mothers, they will beg for their gods,
They will offer their fortunes, their jewels, their rods.
But the Reaper takes nothing but what they have done,
And pays them in full when his work has begun.

He will drag them through valleys of glass and of thorn,
Through fields where the crops are the souls they have torn.
He will make them walk backward through all of their sins,
Reliving each moment where cruelty begins.

They will see every face that they hurt and betrayed,
They will feel every wound that they casually made.
They will hear every cry that they chose to ignore,
And the weight of it all will break them to the core.

Some will turn into statues of salt and of stone,
Forever to stand where their cruelty shone.
Some will turn into shadows that never can rest,
Forever to wander, forever unblest.

Some will turn into mirrors that show only truth,
Reflecting the rot of their age and their youth.
Some will turn into echoes that scream in the night,
Forever repeating the wrongs they thought right.

The Karmic Reaper does not judge, does not plead,
He simply enforces the karmic decree.
He is not a demon, he is not a saint,
He is balance restored, he is justice unfeigned.

He comes for the ones who have walked away clean,
Who thought they could hide what they truly had been.
He comes for the ones who have laughed at the pain,
Who thought they could profit from someone else’s stain.

He comes for the ones who have slept without fear,
Who thought that their victims would disappear.
He comes for the ones who have counted their gain,
While others counted losses, counted sorrow, counted rain.

And when he has finished, when all have been taught,
When every last lesson has painfully caught,
The world feels a little more balanced, more right,
As the Karmic Reaper departs in the night.

He leaves no trace behind but the silence he brings,
The quiet that follows the breaking of wings.
He leaves only echoes of justice fulfilled,
And the knowledge that karma can never be stilled.

So if you have suffered and thought it unfair,
If you have been broken and left to despair,
Know that the Reaper is patient and true,
And in time, he will come for the ones who hurt you.

They may walk away laughing, they may think they are free,
But the ledger of heavens keeps track meticulously.
And when the time ripens, when the balance is due,
The Karmic Reaper will come for them too.

He will teach them a lesson both serious and grave,
He will show them the cost of the pain they gave.
He will make them feel every tear they have caused,
Every wound they have opened, every life they have crossed.

And you, who have suffered, who have bled and have cried,
Will see them receive what they cannot hide.
For karma is patient, karma is cold,
And the Reaper collects what is rightfully owed.

So wait in the shadows, wait in the night,
Wait for the moment of karmic light.
The Reaper is coming, the Reaper is near,
And the ones who have hurt you will tremble in fear.

They will beg for their mothers, they will beg for their gods,
They will offer their fortunes, their jewels, their rods.
But the Reaper takes nothing but what they have done,
And pays them in full when his work has begun.

He will drag them through valleys of glass and of thorn,
Through fields where the crops are the souls they have torn.
He will make them walk backward through all of their sins,
Reliving each moment where cruelty begins.

They will see every face that they hurt and betrayed,
They will feel every wound that they casually made.
They will hear every cry that they chose to ignore,
And the weight of it all will break them to the core.

Some will turn into statues of salt and of stone,
Forever to stand where their cruelty shone.
Some will turn into shadows that never can rest,
Forever to wander, forever unblest.

Some will turn into mirrors that show only truth,
Reflecting the rot of their age and their youth.
Some will turn into echoes that scream in the night,
Forever repeating the wrongs they thought right.

The Karmic Reaper does not judge, does not plead,
He simply enforces the karmic decree.
He is not a demon, he is not a saint,
He is balance restored, he is justice unfeigned.

He comes for the ones who have walked away clean,
Who thought they could hide what they truly had been.
He comes for the ones who have laughed at the pain,
Who thought they could profit from someone else’s stain.

He comes for the ones who have slept without fear,
Who thought that their victims would disappear.
He comes for the ones who have counted their gain,
While others counted losses, counted sorrow, counted rain.

And when he has finished, when all have been taught,
When every last lesson has painfully caught,
The world feels a little more balanced, more right,
As the Karmic Reaper departs in the night.

He leaves no trace behind but the silence he brings,
The quiet that follows the breaking of wings.
He leaves only echoes of justice fulfilled,
And the knowledge that karma can never be stilled.

So if you have suffered and thought it unfair,
If you have been broken and left to despair,
Know that the Reaper is patient and true,
And in time, he will come for the ones who hurt you.

They may walk away laughing, they may think they are free,
But the ledger of heavens keeps track meticulously.
And when the time ripens, when the balance is due,
The Karmic Reaper will come for them too.

He will teach them a lesson both serious and grave,
He will show them the cost of the pain they gave.
He will make them feel every tear they have caused,
Every wound they have opened, every life they have crossed.

And you, who have suffered, who have bled and have cried,
Will see them receive what they cannot hide.
For karma is patient, karma is cold,
And the Reaper collects what is rightfully owed.

So wait in the shadows, wait in the night,
Wait for the moment of karmic light.
The Reaper is coming, the Reaper is near,
And the ones who have hurt you will tremble in fear.

They will beg for their mothers, they will beg for their gods,
They will offer their fortunes, their jewels, their rods.
But the Reaper takes nothing but what they have done,
And pays them in full when his work has begun.

He will drag them through valleys of glass and of thorn,
Through fields where the crops are the souls they have torn.
He will make them walk backward through all of their sins,
Reliving each moment where cruelty begins.

They will see every face that they hurt and betrayed,
They will feel every wound that they casually made.
They will hear every cry that they chose to ignore,
And the weight of it all will break them to the core.

Some will turn into statues of salt and of stone,
Forever to stand where their cruelty shone.
Some will turn into shadows that never can rest,
Forever to wander, forever unblest.

Some will turn into mirrors that show only truth,
Reflecting the rot of their age and their youth.
Some will turn into echoes that scream in the night,
Forever repeating the wrongs they thought right.

The Karmic Reaper does not judge, does not plead,
He simply enforces the karmic decree.
He is not a demon, he is not a saint,
He is balance restored, he is justice unfeigned.

He comes for the ones who have walked away clean,
Who thought they could hide what they truly had been.
He comes for the ones who have laughed at the pain,
Who thought they could profit from someone else’s stain.

He comes for the ones who have slept without fear,
Who thought that their victims would disappear.
He comes for the ones who have counted their gain,
While others counted losses, counted sorrow, counted rain.

And when he has finished, when all have been taught,
When every last lesson has painfully caught,
The world feels a little more balanced, more right,
As the Karmic Reaper departs in the night.

He leaves no trace behind but the silence he brings,
The quiet that follows the breaking of wings.
He leaves only echoes of justice fulfilled,
And the knowledge that karma can never be stilled.

So if you have suffered and thought it unfair,
If you have been broken and left to despair,
Know that the Reaper is patient and true,
And in time, he will come for the ones who hurt you.

They may walk away laughing, they may think they are free,
But the ledger of heavens keeps track meticulously.
And when the time ripens, when the balance is due,
The Karmic Reaper will come for them too.

He will teach them a lesson both serious and grave,
He will show them the cost of the pain they gave.
He will make them feel every tear they have caused,
Every wound they have opened, every life they have crossed.

And you, who have suffered, who have bled and have cried,
Will see them receive what they cannot hide.
For karma is patient, karma is cold,
And the Reaper collects what is rightfully owed.

So wait in the shadows, wait in the night,
Wait for the moment of karmic light.
The Reaper is coming, the Reaper is near,
And the ones who have hurt you will tremble in fear.

They will beg for their mothers, they will beg for their gods,
They will offer their fortunes, their jewels, their rods.
But the Reaper takes nothing but what they have done,
And pays them in full when his work has begun.

He will drag them through valleys of glass and of thorn,
Through fields where the crops are the souls they have torn.
He will make them walk backward through all of their sins,
Reliving each moment where cruelty begins.

They will see every face that they hurt and betrayed,
They will feel every wound that they casually made.
They will hear every cry that they chose to ignore,
And the weight of it all will break them to the core.

Some will turn into statues of salt and of stone,
Forever to stand where their cruelty shone.
Some will turn into shadows that never can rest,
Forever to wander, forever unblest.

Some will turn into mirrors that show only truth,
Reflecting the rot of their age and their youth.
Some will turn into echoes that scream in the night,
Forever repeating the wrongs they thought right.

The Karmic Reaper does not judge, does not plead,
He simply enforces the karmic decree.
He is not a demon, he is not a saint,
He is balance restored, he is justice unfeigned.

He comes for the ones who have walked away clean,
Who thought they could hide what they truly had been.
He comes for the ones who have laughed at the pain,
Who thought they could profit from someone else’s stain.

He comes for the ones who have slept without fear,
Who thought that their victims would disappear.
He comes for the ones who have counted their gain,
While others counted losses, counted sorrow, counted rain.

And when he has finished, when all have been taught,
When every last lesson has painfully caught,
The world feels a little more balanced, more right,
As the Karmic Reaper departs in the night.

He leaves no trace behind but the silence he brings,
The quiet that follows the breaking of wings.
He leaves only echoes of justice fulfilled,
And the knowledge that karma can never be stilled.

So if you have suffered and thought it unfair,
If you have been broken and left to despair,
Know that the Reaper is patient and true,
And in time, he will come for the ones who hurt you.

They may walk away laughing, they may think they are free,
But the ledger of heavens keeps track meticulously.
And when the time ripens, when the balance is due,
The Karmic Reaper will come for them too.

He will teach them a lesson both serious and grave,
He will show them the cost of the pain they gave.
He will make them feel every tear they have caused,
Every wound they have opened, every life they have crossed.

And you, who have suffered, who have bled and have cried,
Will see them receive what they cannot hide.
For karma is patient, karma is cold,
And the Reaper collects what is rightfully owed.

So wait in the shadows, wait in the night,
Wait for the moment of karmic light.
The Reaper is coming, the Reaper is near,
And the ones who have hurt you will tremble in fear.

They will beg for their mothers, they will beg for their gods,
They will offer their fortunes, their jewels, their rods.
But the Reaper takes nothing but what they have done,
And pays them in full when his work has begun.

He will drag them through valleys of glass and of thorn,
Through fields where the crops are the souls they have torn.
He will make them walk backward through all of their sins,
Reliving each moment where cruelty begins.

They will see every face that they hurt and betrayed,
They will feel every wound that they casually made.
They will hear every cry that they chose to ignore,
And the weight of it all will break them to the core.

Some will turn into statues of salt and of stone,
Forever to stand where their cruelty shone.
Some will turn into shadows that never can rest,
Forever to wander, forever unblest.

Some will turn into mirrors that show only truth,
Reflecting the rot of their age and their youth.
Some will turn into echoes that scream in the night,
Forever repeating the wrongs they thought right.

The Karmic Reaper does not judge, does not plead,
He simply enforces the karmic decree.
He is not a demon, he is not a saint,
He is balance restored, he is justice unfeigned.

He comes for the ones who have walked away clean,
Who thought they could hide what they truly had been.
He comes for the ones who have laughed at the pain,
Who thought they could profit from someone else’s stain.

He comes for the ones who have slept without fear,
Who thought that their victims would disappear.
He comes for the ones who have counted their gain,
While others counted losses, counted sorrow, counted rain.

And when he has finished, when all have been taught,
When every last lesson has painfully caught,
The world feels a little more balanced, more right,
As the Karmic Reaper departs in the night.

He leaves no trace behind but the silence he brings,
The quiet that follows the breaking of wings.
He leaves only echoes of justice fulfilled,
And the knowledge that karma can never be stilled.

So if you have suffered and thought it unfair,
If you have been broken and left to despair,
Know that the Reaper is patient and true,
And in time, he will come for the ones who hurt you.

They may walk away laughing, they may think they are free,
But the ledger of heavens keeps track meticulously.
And when the time ripens, when the balance is due,
The Karmic Reaper will come for them too.

He will teach them a lesson both serious and grave,
He will show them the cost of the pain they gave.
He will make them feel every tear they have caused,
Every wound they have opened, every life they have crossed.

And you, who have suffered, who have bled and have cried,
Will see them receive what they cannot hide.
For karma is patient, karma is cold,
And the Reaper collects what is rightfully owed.

So wait in the shadows, wait in the night,
Wait for the moment of karmic light.
The Reaper is coming, the Reaper is near,
And the ones who have hurt you will tremble in fear.

They will beg for their mothers, they will beg for their gods,
They will offer their fortunes, their jewels, their rods.
But the Reaper takes nothing but what they have done,
And pays them in full when his work has begun.

He will drag them through valleys of glass and of thorn,
Through fields where the crops are the souls they have torn.
He will make them walk backward through all of their sins,
Reliving each moment where cruelty begins.

They will see every face that they hurt and betrayed,
They will feel every wound that they casually made.
They will hear every cry that they chose to ignore,
And the weight of it all will break them to the core.

Some will turn into statues of salt and of stone,
Forever to stand where their cruelty shone.
Some will turn into shadows that never can rest,
Forever to wander, forever unblest.

Some will turn into mirrors that show only truth,
Reflecting the rot of their age and their youth.
Some will turn into echoes that scream in the night,
Forever repeating the wrongs they thought right.

The Karmic Reaper does not judge, does not plead,
He simply enforces the karmic decree.
He is not a demon, he is not a saint,
He is balance restored, he is justice unfeigned.

He comes for the ones who have walked away clean,
Who thought they could hide what they truly had been.
He comes for the ones who have laughed at the pain,
Who thought they could profit from someone else’s stain.

He comes for the ones who have slept without fear,
Who thought that their victims would disappear.
He comes for the ones who have counted their gain,
While others counted losses, counted sorrow, counted rain.

And when he has finished, when all have been taught,
When every last lesson has painfully caught,
The world feels a little more balanced, more right,
As the Karmic Reaper departs in the night.

He leaves no trace behind but the silence he brings,
The quiet that follows the breaking of wings.
He leaves only echoes of justice fulfilled,
And the knowledge that karma can never be stilled.

So if you have suffered and thought it unfair,
If you have been broken and left to despair,
Know that the Reaper is patient and true,
And in time, he will come for the ones who hurt you.

They may walk away laughing, they may think they are free,
But the ledger of heavens keeps track meticulously.
And when the time ripens, when the balance is due,
The Karmic Reaper will come for them too.

He will teach them a lesson both serious and grave,
He will show them the cost of the pain they gave.
He will make them feel every tear they have caused,
Every wound they have opened, every life they have crossed.

And you, who have suffered, who have bled and have cried,
Will see them receive what they cannot hide.
For karma is patient, karma is cold,
And the Reaper collects what is rightfully owed.

So wait in the shadows, wait in the night,
Wait for the moment of karmic light.
The Reaper is coming, the Reaper is near,
And the ones who have hurt you will tremble in fear.

They will beg for their mothers, they will beg for their gods,
They will offer their fortunes, their jewels, their rods.
But the Reaper takes nothing but what they have done,
And pays them in full when his work has begun.

He will drag them through valleys of glass and of thorn,
Through fields where the crops are the souls they have torn.
He will make them walk backward through all of their sins,
Reliving each moment where cruelty begins.

They will see every face that they hurt and betrayed,
They will feel every wound that they casually made.
They will hear every cry that they chose to ignore,
And the weight of it all will break them to the core.

Some will turn into statues of salt and of stone,
Forever to stand where their cruelty shone.
Some will turn into shadows that never can rest,
Forever to wander, forever unblest.

Some will turn into mirrors that show only truth,
Reflecting the rot of their age and their youth.
Some will turn into echoes that scream in the night,
Forever repeating the wrongs they thought right.

The Karmic Reaper does not judge, does not plead,
He simply enforces the karmic decree.
He is not a demon, he is not a saint,
He is balance restored, he is justice unfeigned.

He comes for the ones who have walked away clean,
Who thought they could hide what they truly had been.
He comes for the ones who have laughed at the pain,
Who thought they could profit from someone else’s stain.

He comes for the ones who have slept without fear,
Who thought that their victims would disappear.
He comes for the ones who have counted their gain,
While others counted losses, counted sorrow, counted rain.

And when he has finished, when all have been taught,
When every last lesson has painfully caught,
The world feels a little more balanced, more right,
As the Karmic Reaper departs in the night.

He leaves no trace behind but the silence he brings,
The quiet that follows the breaking of wings.
He leaves only echoes of justice fulfilled,
And the knowledge that karma can never be stilled.

So if you have suffered and thought it unfair,
If you have been broken and left to despair,
Know that the Reaper is patient and true,
And in time, he will come for the ones who hurt you.

They may walk away laughing, they may think they are free,
But the ledger of heavens keeps track meticulously.
And when the time ripens, when the balance is due,
The Karmic Reaper will come for them too.

He will teach them a lesson both serious and grave,
He will show them the cost of the pain they gave.
He will make them feel every tear they have caused,
Every wound they have opened, every life they have crossed.

And you, who have suffered, who have bled and have cried,
Will see them receive what they cannot hide.
For karma is patient, karma is cold,
And the Reaper collects what is rightfully owed.

So wait in the shadows, wait in the night,
Wait for the moment of karmic light.
The Reaper is coming, the Reaper is near,
And the ones who have hurt you will tremble in fear.

They will beg for their mothers, they will beg for their gods,
They will offer their fortunes, their jewels, their rods.
But the Reaper takes nothing but what they have done,
And pays them in full when his work has begun.

He will drag them through valleys of glass and of thorn,
Through fields where the crops are the souls they have torn.
He will make them walk backward through all of their sins,
Reliving each moment where cruelty begins.

They will see every face that they hurt and betrayed,
They will feel every wound that they casually made.
They will hear every cry that they chose to ignore,
And the weight of it all will break them to the core.

Some will turn into statues of salt and of stone,
Forever to stand where their cruelty shone.
Some will turn into shadows that never can rest,
Forever to wander, forever unblest.

Some will turn into mirrors that show only truth,
Reflecting the rot of their age and their youth.
Some will turn into echoes that scream in the night,
Forever repeating the wrongs they thought right.

The Karmic Reaper does not judge, does not plead,
He simply enforces the karmic decree.
He is not a demon, he is not a saint,
He is balance restored, he is justice unfeigned.

He comes for the ones who have walked away clean,
Who thought they could hide what they truly had been.
He comes for the ones who have laughed at the pain,
Who thought they could profit from someone else’s stain.

He comes for the ones who have slept without fear,
Who thought that their victims would disappear.
He comes for the ones who have counted their gain,
While others counted losses, counted sorrow, counted rain.

And when he has finished, when all have been taught,
When every last lesson has painfully caught,
The world feels a little more balanced, more right,
As the Karmic Reaper departs in the night.

He leaves no trace behind but the silence he brings,
The quiet that follows the breaking of wings.
He leaves only echoes of justice fulfilled,
And the knowledge that karma can never be stilled.

So if you have suffered and thought it unfair,
If you have been broken and left to despair,
Know that the Reaper is patient and true,
And in time, he will come for the ones who hurt you.

They may walk away laughing, they may think they are free,
But the ledger of heavens keeps track meticulously.
And when the time ripens, when the balance is due,
The Karmic Reaper will come for them too.

He will teach them a lesson both serious and grave,
He will show them the cost of the pain they gave.
He will make them feel every tear they have caused,
Every wound they have opened, every life they have crossed.

And you, who have suffered, who have bled and have cried,
Will see them receive what they cannot hide.
For karma is patient, karma is cold,
And the Reaper collects what is rightfully owed.

So wait in the shadows, wait in the night,
Wait for the moment of karmic light.
The Reaper is coming, the Reaper is near,
And the ones who have hurt you will tremble in fear.

They will beg for their mothers, they will beg for their gods,
They will offer their fortunes, their jewels, their rods.
But the Reaper takes nothing but what they have done,
And pays them in full when his work has begun.

He will drag them through valleys of glass and of thorn,
Through fields where the crops are the souls they have torn.
He will make them walk backward through all of their sins,
Reliving each moment where cruelty begins.

They will see every face that they hurt and betrayed,
They will feel every wound that they casually made.
They will hear every cry that they chose to ignore,
And the weight of it all will break them to the core.

Some will turn into statues of salt and of stone,
Forever to stand where their cruelty shone.
Some will turn into shadows that never can rest,
Forever to wander, forever unblest.

Some will turn into mirrors that show only truth,
Reflecting the rot of their age and their youth.
Some will turn into echoes that scream in the night,
Forever repeating the wrongs they thought right.

The Karmic Reaper does not judge, does not plead,
He simply enforces the karmic decree.
He is not a demon, he is not a saint,
He is balance restored, he is justice unfeigned.

He comes for the ones who have walked away clean,
Who thought they could hide what they truly had been.
He comes for the ones who have laughed at the pain,
Who thought they could profit from someone else’s stain.

He comes for the ones who have slept without fear,
Who thought that their victims would disappear.
He comes for the ones who have counted their gain,
While others counted losses, counted sorrow, counted rain.

And when he has finished, when all have been taught,
When every last lesson has painfully caught,
The world feels a little more balanced, more right,
As the Karmic Reaper departs in the night.

He leaves no trace behind but the silence he brings,
The quiet that follows the breaking of wings.
He leaves only echoes of justice fulfilled,
And the knowledge that karma can never be stilled.

So if you have suffered and thought it unfair,
If you have been broken and left to despair,
Know that the Reaper is patient and true,
And in time, he will come for the ones who hurt you.

They may walk away laughing, they may think they are free,
But the ledger of heavens keeps track meticulously.
And when the time ripens, when the balance is due,
The Karmic Reaper will come for them too.

He will teach them a lesson both serious and grave,
He will show them the cost of the pain they gave.
He will make them feel every tear they have caused,
Every wound they have opened, every life they have crossed.

And you, who have suffered, who have bled and have cried,
Will see them receive what they cannot hide.
For karma is patient, karma is cold,
And the Reaper collects what is rightfully owed.

So wait in the shadows, wait in the night,
Wait for the moment of karmic light.
The Reaper is coming, the Reaper is near,
And the ones who have hurt you will tremble in fear.

They will beg for their mothers, they will beg for their gods,
They will offer their fortunes, their jewels, their rods.
But the Reaper takes nothing but what they have done,
And pays them in full when his work has begun.

He will drag them through valleys of glass and of thorn,
Through fields where the crops are the souls they have torn.
He will make them walk backward through all of their sins,
Reliving each moment where cruelty begins.

They will see every face that they hurt and betrayed,
They will feel every wound that they casually made.
They will hear every cry that they chose to ignore,
And the weight of it all will break them to the core.

Some will turn into statues of salt and of stone,
Forever to stand where their cruelty shone.
Some will turn into shadows that never can rest,
Forever to wander, forever unblest.

Some will turn into mirrors that show only truth,
Reflecting the rot of their age and their youth.
Some will turn into echoes that scream in the night,
Forever repeating the wrongs they thought right.

The Karmic Reaper does not judge, does not plead,
He simply enforces the karmic decree.
He is not a demon, he is not a saint,
He is balance restored, he is justice unfeigned.

He comes for the ones who have walked away clean,
Who thought they could hide what they truly had been.
He comes for the ones who have laughed at the pain,
Who thought they could profit from someone else’s stain.

He comes for the ones who have slept without fear,
Who thought that their victims would disappear.
He comes for the ones who have counted their gain,
While others counted losses, counted sorrow, counted rain.

And when he has finished, when all have been taught,
When every last lesson has painfully caught,
The world feels a little more balanced, more right,
As the Karmic Reaper departs in the night.

He leaves no trace behind but the silence he brings,
The quiet that follows the breaking of wings.
He leaves only echoes of justice fulfilled,
And the knowledge that karma can never be stilled.

So if you have suffered and thought it unfair,
If you have been broken and left to despair,
Know that the Reaper is patient and true,
And in time, he will come for the ones who hurt you.

They may walk away laughing, they may think they are free,
But the ledger of heavens keeps track meticulously.
And when the time ripens, when the balance is due,
The Karmic Reaper will come for them too.

He will teach them a lesson both serious and grave,
He will show them the cost of the pain they gave.
He will make them feel every tear they have caused,
Every wound they have opened, every life they have crossed.

And you, who have suffered, who have bled and have cried,
Will see them receive what they cannot hide.
For karma is patient, karma is cold,
And the Reaper collects what is rightfully owed.

So wait in the shadows, wait in the night,
Wait for the moment of karmic light.
The Reaper is coming, the Reaper is near,
And the ones who have hurt you will tremble in fear.

They will beg for their mothers, they will beg for their gods,
They will offer their fortunes, their jewels, their rods.
But the Reaper takes nothing but what they have done,
And pays them in full when his work has begun.

He will drag them through valleys of glass and of thorn,
Through fields where the crops are the souls they have torn.
He will make them walk backward through all of their sins,
Reliving each moment where cruelty begins.

They will see every face that they hurt and betrayed,
They will feel every wound that they casually made.
They will hear every cry that they chose to ignore,
And the weight of it all will break them to the core.

Some will turn into statues of salt and of stone,
Forever to stand where their cruelty shone.
Some will turn into shadows that never can rest,
Forever to wander, forever unblest.

Some will turn into mirrors that show only truth,
Reflecting the rot of their age and their youth.
Some will turn into echoes that scream in the night,
Forever repeating the wrongs they thought right.

The Karmic Reaper does not stop...

KARMA!!

©2026 Chapter V: Aphotic Poets

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