Choicest Silences

In the gentle rain of a cold shower, two drops alone feel warm against your skin.

On the road to greatness or survival, you have had to die some to keep walking.

In the boat that is your life, you have had to sink a little to stay afloat.

At the precipice, we change. Hurts, but it’s our own poison’s antidote.

For the smile of one, you have had to cry a ton.

Yet, keep steady, for the battle will soon be won.

Some stars are in lore, beknown.

Some, however, remain to atone.


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Why is The Grim Reaper so grim?

Ever wondered if maybe Death had a lover once?

The Grim Reaper, Death, The Angel of Death.. Before he became so grim, I wonder if he had a lady love whom he loved dearly.

Perhaps they were to be married or probably already were and then he lost her.

Maybe her life simply ceased to exist one day and it could no longer be inside her.

It was stuck, with nowhere to go and perhaps he moved the heavens and the earth to bring it back inside her.

But she was not the same. She was not the woman he loved, but merely a shell of whom she once was.

She was no longer really alive. She was simply…non living. 

He could no longer watch her suffer like that and wanted to let her go.

So maybe he tied a Scythe atop a high pole on one end. He cut his chest open and took out his now-frozen heart and used it as the key that bound the ends of the rope that held the Scythe in place.

I can picture him, holding her close to him, against his bleeding chest, in a vain attempt at giving her cold body some warmth in the chillness of the pre-dawn air.

A single tear peeked out of his eye just in time to catch the first ray of the rising sun so it may glint off of it and reach his icy heart.

As the sun rose, his heart melted and he could have sworn he saw a faint smile flash in his love’s lips. Perhaps it was just the reflection of his own faint smile that he caught a glimpse of, in her unfocused eyes before his heart melted enough to free the Scythe from its bonds.

And then, with one, rapidly accelerating movement, the Scythe perhaps, found it kind enough to separate their heads together.

He had known that she could never leave him but it had been her time to go. However, she just could not leave her love and go alone and so he had sealed his fate off and maybe decided to accompany her to the riverbed for one last, eternal goodbye, before she crossed over to the other side.

Perhaps this angered the ways of nature and he was cursed with a skeletal form and The Touch of Death so he may never find love again; a flowing, dark robe so he may never be noticed again; and the same Scythe he used to take his life, defying order.

The Grim Reaper was perhaps then cursed to guide the newly dead souls, as he guided his long lost love once. Cursed to repeat and to ironically, re-live that fateful day for all eternity.

Perhaps that is why, The Grim Reaper is, in fact, so grim. However, I still fancy a hopeful thought. I still think, that beneath that dark hood, shrouded in pitch black enigma is a smiling face for it was all worth it for him, in the end.


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