The Death of the Grim Reaper

The Angel of Death came at midnight
Wearing a resplendent black cloak
And when he raised his scythe overhead,
I knew it was time to croak

I wanted to teach him a lesson
A taste of his very own strife
I wanted a bit of revenge because
The Reaper had taken my life!

He tried to escape through the backdoor
But my black cat stood in the way.
The Reaper was so superstitious,
I was happy to learn that day.

He dropped his scythe in an instant.
It tumbled quick to the ground.
But he wouldn't dare to retrieve it
So long as the cat was around.

I didn't have body or substance;
All I could do was float.
But I still had my psionic ability
And could raise that scythe like a note.

It flew about like a bird,
flying so high overhead
And when it landed on top of him,
At last the reaper was dead!