This is dedicated to all the soul-eaters, who over the years, have stormed my battlements with their toxic, cancerous ways. BACK TO HELL, DEMONS! For I am the righteous and you are the fallen.
Could it be lies
That fry and die
When you open your mouth
And let loose with
That decrepit wind
Which fills my sagging sails
With cheerless abandon
Should I question
Your pounding hammer
That drives iron nails
Into my damp and rotting floorboards
Splitting the wood into
Fat ragged kindling feeding
The desperate fire I tend listlessly
The repetition, the machination
Of this cycle
Drives my spine
Into the rough concrete
As your fingers search for
The button to adjust my speed
But should you wait long enough
I will burn my fuel down to nothing
And leave you with nothing but ashes.
A poem to zombies. Nice idea and execution!
Moar BRAINS!!!!!
‘Fat ragged kindling feeding’ — I like!
Nice – feel free to throw line that line around town!