The Reaper

The Reaper
Sworn to faith
The reaper scythes the gold barley
His harvest, for anothers taste
His mind
His will
And his heart
For anothers greed
The gold fields
Running rich with life
Singeing his face with its vibrant energy
All anothers energy
Anothers face
Living on faith alone
The blood seeps from the reapers fresh wound
Death finds the reapers cold body
While the city of anothers
Replace the reaper
Sending him to his rest
In the black, hungry fields
Of the forgotten