A little poem I came up with. Please enjoy.
Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note or any of its characters.
This young man is perfect in every way,
Adored by everyone in his day,
Perfection took a human form,
He was far from average or norm,
His body tall and tan and clear skinned,
For him many girls would gladly have sinned.
But if you touch him you'll get a shock,
Those bright blue eyes and golden locks,
Give way to hollow sockets and straggly hair,
The sight is almost too much to bear,
His body dissolves into bones and rags
His shoulders slump, his feet drag,
A scythe he carries by his side,
Dust and ash are his insides,
People still flee in terror and fright,
Though he begs them to stay with all his might,
He was lonely, and though he tried,
He could not bring himself to die,
Despite how he looked and what others were told,
This man was really a thousand years old,
I am this man I have spoken of,
I have gone for centuries without love,
But please, before you pity me,
Know in fact, I am a shinigami.
