As I step upon a the bed of nails
The lost spirits of the Styx creep into my soul and my morals fade
A burn so foul to heap upon the broken flesh
Swords and chains will mesh and tear the heathen battle flesh
The blood is fresh and the dead are stirring
They strive to tear my pink velvet skin bag
Or my rocky sleep headed bowl my head my skull
My eternal brain protecting hull
Walking on to raise the demon
With a howl to curdle any blood the transformation is made from the light
To the sweet suckle darkness with a flood
With a bloody mess I danced among the dead and the living I behead
Only the evil I will go medieval on
And a single step forward and deeper in the cave pail as the fallen angels face i Go deeper as if made
Looking for the Holy Grail so that I may pawn it.
Onward is that the only direction to go or can paths change
Comments
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This is dark and full of great imagery - I liked the subtle use of rhyme and the over-all flow of this poem. It is a good fantasy poem which shows a very vivid imagination. As to your question I believe paths can change- sometimes unexpectedly
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