I've never seen him before, But I know how he feels, His presence is just a shiver up my spine. His faint caress upon my cheek, His whispers of comfort. I imagine him, Long, black cloak to cover his shame. A bony figure that is strong enough to break bonds. His scythe, ready to cut what's not his. I'm not certain what death looks like but I'm sure of one thing. Death's a stealer.