Satan's Spawn:
Matt black listless night,
windless moors that cannot mourn.
Death like silence,
a long wait before dawn.
Murky shadows of blue and grey,
all the colors found in a grave.
The undead shall walk again this night,
to search their prey for their ghoulish delight.
Decaying stench of death permeates the air,
Thick and foul, almost everywhere.
Hide if you can, wait for the coming dawn,
Away from the sight of Satan's spawn.
Steven Beesley © 19th June, 2007
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