Shadows of Hate

Hundreds, thousands,

Millions or more,

Her thirst for shadows

keeps up the score,

The Reapers, the Creepers

have all stood alone,

but the Queen of the Dark wings

has gulped every soul.

The scythe draped in blood,

the guts open wide,

stands she proud and

sips some red from the goblet beside.

Gratitude, suffering

Regret and hate,

fuels her anger and shadows her hate.

Detest, strength, power and fate,

makes her a King

who will never be slain.

She ebbs out their shadows,

soaks up in her veins,

Kisses the corpse rather

Symphony of flapping feathers

and the body bag in chains.

She cracked open the bearded skull

and the moonlight thickened his sense,

Oh! Mother, cried he, for Heaven

But death knocked him to lull.

Disgust and horror

Sweats down my face,

She walks up closer

and sniffs my chase.

Halts she, the Helen of Night

and evanesced in haze.

The face of death

Behind the veil,

the wings of darkness

Rose and rose

as though my Dark Bride.