Hello there, my child.
No, I’m not the Grim Reaper,
And no, I’m not the famed Archangel Lucifer.
I am the source of every villager’s sorrow and tears.
And I am your old nan’s biggest fear.
I am the living definition of hell.
In your cemeteries, there, I dwell,
Waiting for the perfect hour
And searching for another soul to devour.
Now, don’t be petrified, I’m not here to maim you,
I’m just going to check if you’re delicate enough for me to chew.
Go on, ask your gods for help
Not as if they’re going to hear you. Oh, welp.
I am the rumored fat-assed boar
Maybe because of my bloodcurling snore
But I assure you, I’m someone who’s worth crying for
For I am the monstrous Grimataur
Feasting on hate and gore.
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