Danger often finds its peace in dark silence held from truth in light not a slight scratch across it in chanced to find comfort itched in mind not even skin deep half asleep lay fingers at ready to squeeze a smooth pull across cold steel mirrored finish like new reflection by satin finish at ready a hair trigger, felt like it was made just for the hand it was held on to an extension to further reach out as an appendage but so much farther were it's clout that its weight didn't near come close to how much weight given by respect it were due as it can change lives of any in but an instant so knew to determine if one will succumb or so come to see tomorrow or if it just so happens today's number were one it pulled the power so held in but one finger only God and fate were better to know by all to remember what its last word is voiced across miles so given of energy the farther than words can be a carrier for speaks as it cracks then breaks the sound barrier thrown lead dressed up clad in copper polished to a complete finish so fine though an invite to a ball or a galla rather then a bell rung by death overshadowed to loom a constant threat a vigil eye had seen of it by need to dream escape the grip held flight denied for fear to fight off a cold grip of it by death at hand so near to present shiver shake the scythe a swing to take not past the first round for any center mass would surely die, for so a hand shared with deaths by harvest as so bullet points where one is the last to lie pre cut down for bodies...