Death and the scarecrow

Ignorant bliss,
flooding the tingling light
of fake titter
the cuckoo may sing,
death howl will still
be heard,in the dark sky
howling and shrieking
without unnatural banter
sly eyes and putrid mind.
The call of death, curious
like a mastermind,
solving the puzzle of the
missing scarecrow,
devious questions
summoning the unsuspecting tongue
to waggle out replies, genuine
but stored in a memory box
with meaningless tissue floating around.
A drained self,
fairytale life
like snow white
who ate the apple,
but had no clue,
that it was poisoned.
She got a gift,
a kiss,
all death is getting
is more vanity,hunger for sodomy,
and envy than before.