Grim

Ice cold skin, pale complexion 

the blue flames spread like a deadly infection. 

His legs won't move, his heart beat quickens, 

his eyes grow wide, his blood begins to thicken. 

A shortness of breath, 

the stench of death, 

the Grim Reaper has arrived.

As he drifts closer the boy begs for his life 

the reaper won't listen and he raises his scythe. 

He try's to move, to runaway, 

but his legs refuse to obey. 

The things he's done to deserve this fate; 

his soul forever trapped by his hate. 

As the scythe comes down he closes his eyes 

and pictures the deep blue of the sky. 

His life replays deep in his mind if only he'd done things a little different then maybe, just maybe he would have survived.

Reviews

[FIN]

Awesome imagery. From start to finish and a well done job on evoking the "feiegtened" emotion.