Grim...

Bang, Grim descends. Under his hollowed gaze, our souls ascend, To a dreamy haze, where eternity awaits. Bang, bang, the reaper's call to our fate. With scythe in hand, he harversts the nights, Collecting souls, a solemn, ghostly rite. His eyes like two muffled lights, burning low and cold, Guiding spirits to the afterlife folds. In Grim's realm, time loses it's hold, Memories fade, like autumn leaves grown old. Keep your soul within, for Grim's the collector true. Bang, bang, bang, the heartbeat of the divine, Grim's dark design, a mysterious shrine. Yet in his heart, a secret lies in store, amongst the cracks, A compassion deep for the lives he's come to bore.