I brokered a deal with an agent of Death
And no, that's no strange allegory
Don't think that I'm lying right under my breath -
The name on her card read, "Ms. Mori"

It seemed the old Reaper was sick with the flu
(such things were not strange, she assured me)
The Taker of Souls was bedridden and blue
They needed a temp in a hurry

Ms. Mori said, plainly, they needed a lead
Any mortal who'd fill in for Grim
No matter if his heart was riddled with greed
If he offered, they'd settle for him

I asked her, why ask me to fill in for he?
What had I done to draw their notice?
I felt just as healthy as healthy could be
In mind and heart, pure as a lotus

The agent guffawed and said that I'd slayed her
(I wasn't too fond of Ms. Mori)
She claimed that I was humanity's nadir
My afterlife, no happy story

I said, "Okay lady, you're being quite rude,
Why should I take these insults you've hurled?"
She said, "If you hold onto that attitude,
You'll sink with your sins in the next world!

"The sins of your flesh and the sins of your soul,
Are more num'rous than the stars at night,
We'll forgive one each paid in kind to Death's Toll
Each deliv'ry will set your soul right!"

Said I, "Ms. Mori, I'm fit as a fiddle,
Time have I to reconcile my ways."
Said she, "For those sweets your arteries riddle,
Surprised would I be if you had days.

"I also note, mortal," she said with a smile,
"That old Death had his plans set for you
A piece of advice from what's next in your file:
Look for trucks when you're tying your shoe!"

I hemmed and I hawed, but there was no real choice
She had me right over a barrel
No complaints nor counters could I truly voice
My morals erstwhile had grown feral

Said I to Ms. Mori, "I have to accept
What terms are there to this endeavor?
Am I to take lives without any precept,
Or only the dying I sever?"

"The lives that you take, mortal, should be complete
Those yet living - their lives you don't rob!
Our work is our work, and our books must stay neat -
Wanton murder is all too macabre!

"Cheer up, my dear mortal!" (I must have seemed glum)
"It is work, but it's also a romp!
You'll travel the world! No more quiet humdrum!
'Tis the joy of the old psychopomp!"

She did tell the truth in her traveling salespitch
Exciting momentum fills my days
One thing, though, she missed was the downside or hitch:
I need to keep up my work always!

It's taking so long for to pay off my debt
(I won't bore you with all the detail)
Suffice it to say that my life I regret
Moreover, the lives I must curtail

Now, I've borne Death's mantle and reaped my fair share
I've seen that the clientele's fickle
The job must be done, but most people beware
The stranger who carries the sickle

One humble request from a sinner gone clean
Once the end of your days has drawn near:
Don't think of the reaper as hateful or mean
It might be an intern that you fear!