night poisoned wood.
Dead trees reach out with mangled fingers
scratching away everything good.
Voices whisper in the leaves
and shadows pass
that are not attached to any form
either loosely or held fast.
Beings crouch like gargoyles
letting out an evil hiss
marking you in their arrows aim
you pray to gods they miss.
Their ugly faces scrutinize you
and say you will suffice.
They keep you in your ignorance,
and oblivious to your sacrifice.
No comments:
Post a Comment