A BLACK AND GREY NOTE BOOK IS OPENED AND PLACED ON A CLOUD
JAGGED AND TORN PAGES ARE DISPLAYED
AGES OF PAST SOULS ARE SCRIBBLED ON ITS PAGES IN THE OLD LANGUAG
ETURN AFTER TURN THE PAGES ARE SEEN WHILE MOON REFLECTS IN HIS EYES
HIS HANDS ARE BIG AND UNSTEADY WITH AGE
HIS FEATHER IS SHARP AND HIS INK BLACK AS THE NIGHT SKY
THIS IS HIS JOB
IT CAUSES SORRY AND PAIN
IT EASES DISCOMFORTS
WEN HE DOES IT WELL
HE CAUSES THE EARTH TO FLOOD WITH TEARS
MOTHERS MORN AND CHILDREN TO SUFFER IN UNWANTED PLACES
HE FEELS NO SORROW FOR HAVING SUCH A HARDY NOTE BOOK
HE IS JUST DOING HIS JOB
AND HE DOES IT WELL
IT MAKES HIM FAMOUSLONG
BLACK CARS ARE PULLED OUT IN HIS HONER
LARGE GROUPS GATHER TO RECOGNIZE HIM AND WONDER IF HIS JOB IS DONE FOR THE DAY
THEY SING, LAUGH HYSTERICALLY, FAINT AND SCREAM AT HIS PRESENCE
HE TURNS HIS PAGES STEADILY, LICKING THE TIP OF HIS FINGER IF ONE SEEMS TO STICK
HE FINALLY REACHES A BLANK PAGE
HE STARES AT THIS SMOOTH UNTOUCHED PAPER THEN SQUINTS HIS EYES TO SEE BETTER
WITH HIS SHAcKY HAND HE REACHES FOR HIS FAVORITE FEATHER
RUNs HIS LEFT INDEX FINGER DOWN ITS SOFT SIDE AND TESTS THE TIP
HE KNOWS HIS JOB WELL
THE INK IS SO CLEAN AND PURE AND OF THE BEST QUALITY
HE WRITES A WORD AT THE TOP OF THE PAGE AND LEANS BACK TO LOOK AT IT
"DEATH NOTE"
BEFORE IT CAN FULLY DRY HE GOES TO WORK CREATING ENEMIES AND FANS
QUICKLY SCRIBBLING NAMES.
FILLING HIS QUOTA FOR THE DAY
AT THE END OF HIS LIST HE SLOWS DOWN...
HE FEELS US WATCHING HIM
OUT OF RESPECT HE SLOWS DOWN..
OUR EYES ARE PIERCING HE RIGHTS HIS LETTERS SLOWLY AND IN A BEAUTIFUL MANNER
WHEN HE IS DONE HE LEANS BACK ONCE AGAIN TO STUDY HIS WORK
THE LAST NAME HE IS MOST PROUD O
FAS THE INK DRIES CRIES FILL THE HEAVENS AND BURST OPEN ITS GATES
HE CAN TELL THIS NAME IS SPECIAL
