Fear Me Not

I was not born a killer
but I have known Death
as a friend
off to soldier a war with himself
as an unborn
laid to rest by his maiden
each wandering my mind hand-in-hand
In the sixty seven dark days of Barrow

I was not born a killer
but I have tasted Death
at first the shiver of vinegar
now the sweet palate of fine wine
followed by a chocolate dipped berry
each filling the belly of my soul
with a hunger for more

I was not born a killer
but I have taken cover in her sheets
as a virgin gone mad with lust
now a man fulfilling her every need
having sewn my seed
with every church bell ring

I was not born a killer
but make no mistake
I am Death
Fear me not
for I shall not walk, nor eat, nor lay with you
as the only prey I shall hunt
is
me