Needless Things: Deathly Cosmic Reapers

They drift between collapsing suns, Where silence screams and starlight runs, Their scythes are carved from comet bones, They harvest cries from broken tones.

In shadows cold, beyond all time, They cull the void with hands of grime, Nebulas burn in their hollow eyes, As galaxies mourn with spectral sighs.

They reap the souls of wandering stars, Collecting ghosts in cosmic jars, Each heartbeat ends in their obsidian keep, Where eternity drowns and the voidlings weep.

No mortal prayer, no god’s command, Can halt their reach or stay their hand, For Deathly Cosmic Reapers reign, In silence, sorrow, and endless pain. NNN