• GRIM


    The black clouds roll in
    An eerie chill comes with the wind
    My body is numb with fear
    As I see a dark figure appear
    The one know as the Reaper has come to take my soul
    He replies “Get ready for cold”
    His cloak engulfed the light
    Then returns in a field of white
    A wasteland barren
    A frozen field with no end
    So cold I can see my breath
    I thought to my self is this life after death
    I look up and saw the sun dark as an abyss
    For a second I thought I was a mental mess
    “Where am I? A spiritual plain!?”
    As I start to look for an being
    My body isn’t agreeing
    I felt strange feeling in the air
    So dark, so queer
    It was the Reaper and the Scythe he wields
    I fall to my knees in the field
    I replied “kill me now” As I look at a dark cloud
    With my head up and my faith down
    I ask the Reaper “Why do I need to die”
    He replied with his dark eye
    “Because it is the way of the Grim”
    I felt my soul within
    I close my eyes but then open wide
    I thought my past and sighed
    “I wonder why
    Am I dead or alive?”
    I look around and I’m still in the field
    I look in my hands and a weapon I wield
    A scythe with a dark aura and silver blade
    My hands are bone and I seemed afraid
    I laughed and said “I have no soul
    Because I am Grim”