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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”