A Hollow Heart

A Hollow Heart

The child was born
on a dark, dreary eve
"The Night of the Grim"
And the night of me.

I circled above
as the ceremonies began,
this child of filth,
the task at hand.

The prophets were frantic
running about
casting enchantments
to keep evil out.

My boy lay in the stable,
the perfect martyr,
he who would kill me:
the Eternal Harter.

"Run in fear sons of man"
my rasp echoed divine,
"go home to your wives,
this child is mine!"

I fell upon the weak
with practiced hand
sending them fleeing
from this blighted land.

"You'd be my slayer?
You could kill me?
The Killer of Gods?
A Child of Three?!"

It was here in the night
when the Grim spoke loud
that an army advanced,
an army and a cloud.

"The heart of lion,
that's what they've said,
would kill the Grim Reaper?
I'm already dead!"

The Grim's cackle sounded
and half the force wavered
arrows notched silently
for the kill to be savored.

So the cloud grew restless
in this odd frightening
the army awaiting signal
it started to lightening.

And as the first raindrop
nestled into the ground
the whistles of arrows
consumed all sound.

And the Grim screamed,
a curse ringing true,
I can't die yet,
my time isn't due!

So he planted his Seed
In his killers heart
which hollowed it out
causing soul to depart.

The Grim's head twitched,
cloak whipping the wind,
and disappeared in a flash,
the advocate of sin.

Then three second later
as Sir Edward came out,
the newborn started crying,
heart full of doubt.

A Hollow Heart, by Tilli for ReflectingEye's Dark Poetry Contest.