Hunting hanging inverted, ye flutter hither,
Hide in ye casket, as the twilight makes thee wither,
Twist and squirm in agony, as the stake delivers the sliver,
The heart and liver writhe, as they tremble and quiver,
Screams echo through the ruins, but there is no evil forgiver,
Red raindrops drip a spatter a pither, forming into a bloody river.
D. Matthew Beebe
No comments:
Post a Comment