Under the bed the demons give sport,
Monsters of hatred dance and cavort,
The lecturn broken on the ground,
Valuable lessons untimely extort.
Laying broken on the ground,
A body twisted its eyes unfound,
Stomach churning full of worms,
Spilling, silently upon the mound.
The chest it heaves how it churns,
Skin it sears, blackens and burns,
Sibiliant whispers quietly cackle,
Its wrists bound with iron so stern.
When your spells go spectacularly wrong,
don't forget, sing madness a song,
And paradise is ever out of reach,
Let, "Help me!" Be your swansong.
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Comments
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nice.. i really like the rhyming and imagery is strong. yup dark indeed.
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