Poetry of a Blind Girl

grimmie

Grimmie

The skull got closer and closer to the castle

The spine that was attached to it was held tightly in a skeletal hand

The power flowed through the air like a bat

The pulses of power pummelled past, plants petals perished

The grass grew gray as the grim reaper grazed the staff against the ground

The same walk they make every day

Being grimmie doesn't pay very well

Though the cursed land doesn't cost much

Grimmie is grateful for the ground and the gravel they tread on

Though they find it hard to fund favourable food

The bin men don't go there so grimmie needs to walk with heavy bags of rubbish

The only people that go there hold cameras and Ouija boards

Though grimmie knew there were no spirits

Scary sounds shake shelves sending shivers down grimmie's spine.

The pleading and begging hang heavily on grimmie's heart

Grimmie holds back tears sometimes , though they've learnt not to care much

There's those treasures tearing through the wall

Though grimmie is invincible they are scared of death

Though grimmie can't feel they feel pain

Though horrendous humans hear and holler haunting tales of hooded death

No matter what is said or heard

There will be tales of the one in the hood

13/9/2020