A test of courage and luck
Sucking you bone dry
Final Resting Place (Rictameter)
beneath worm-ridden soil;
secrets bared only to demons.
They claw at tattered funeral garments,
to get to death's barterd souls.
Loved ones cry foolishly,
but nothing is
Eternal autumn blankets our world
Touching leaves of colors swirled
Embryonic buds never to see light
Rest has fallen upon the chilled night
Nature quiets for an evening of rest
As song birds settle into their nests
Long are the eves of autumn blessed
Away are the days of warmth and green
Utterly spectacular is the colorful scene
Though the winds blow fingers through
Under blankets of moss trickles icy dew
Mother Nature has chosen her one season
Neither you nor I will ever know the reason
Descending from the darkness,
an angel crouches in the shadows;
purity cradled by her tender breast,
somnolent from demon’s sedition.
For this little one was The Chosen,
revered for her simple innocence;
unknowing, beautiful and chaste,
ready to be offered up to Him.
A sip from the bloodied chalice,
stripped her of her virtuousness.
She lay on the cold black altar,
and tearfully awaited her vile fate.
From out of the depths of the gloom,
she saw the angel of darkness descend.
Screams bellowed out and fire roared;
demons spoke in tongues and clashed.
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