100 Grim Reapers

One-hundred grim reapers were there to see me
Oh, and they smiled so delicately
And the closest one, he mentioned what they'd seen
Then he paused for a moment of glee

At the discretion of the others
Told me of the deaths of my friends
And as the frowns, they grew worse and worse
He recited a poem about my loves:

Here you see
That I will be
The grace, the fear, the fire that I have now
Where I am
Composure can
Can take it apart and destroy new things to be

And he finally whispered to me
"I can tell you about the death of yourself"
And just then, the other ninety-nine, they grabbed him
Before they covered his mouth, he said
"Get used to it, get used to it"