Death's Tool

Death had a needle made of steel, And with it, white shrouds she did seal. Golden thread she deftly wove; Danced along the fabric with love.

Once a fearless tailor, adventurous and daring, Stole the needle sharp as any blade; And with it, he crafted a gown unsparing, Sold to an old count at a banquet well-paid.

The old man marveled at the stunning sight, The pearls shone bright like snowflakes in the sun; The twisted pattern, gilded with delight, He gave the dress to his daughter, most beloved, only one.

Adorned in awe, just putting on a gifted dress, The beauty fell lifeless at her father's feet; Death played her violin with mournful finesse, As the needle raised sensing the Mistress' beat.

The needle shone, it danced with a gleam! Crafting fabrics from the fates of all! For those who bring deaths don't deserve to live! A witness to all, it knew their rise and fall!

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