The hooded man

As the shadow crossed the room, he lurked inside the dark.
In silence he moved for nearby he felt a spark.

Silence evermore as his work was yet to start.
Off in the distance he felt the beatign of a heart.

His gown flowed loosely down unto the floor.
It muffled his every movement as he crept up to the door.

It slide open, with no protest or creek.
Through it quickly slipped a dark and stealthy streak.

The black depths of his garments concelled his body and face.
Into the air he reached, his hand clawing into space.

He snatched his hand through the air with quickness and with lythe.
And as the man withdrew his hand in it was his scythe.

Alas his eyes locked upon the thing he came here for.
He quickly pounced upon the thing and pinned it to the floor.

Far back within the hood a smile might be seen.
And in the sockets of his eyes a deep and evil gleen.

Downward plunged the sycthe upon it's merry way.
It burrowed deep into the thing and found a place to stay.

The man then withdrew his scythe and wiped the shimears off his blade.
Silently he then crept back into the shade.