He sits upon a cold throne
Birth came from discarded placentas
Placed upon the heap
His bloody evil mind lives
Behind eyes of terror
Torn flesh of his victims
Digesting within his belly
In the cold place where he dwells
The hearts of many who wandered
Innocence is no excuse
At the end of their journey
They remain within the clutches
Nimble fingers grasping for me
In the chilled air
Towards warm flesh that is fresh
Seeking to devour me in his hunger
Confirming that all my thoughts
Within my youth were correct
Vexation is upon the world
In many forms it thrives
Concealing itself behind the veil
Lurking always lurking
Patiently waiting for me to stumble
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
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