Sword Play
This is not rehearsal,
the blood you see is real.
There will be no reversal,
these scars will never heal.
No masquerade is allowed here,
be sure your weapon is sharp.
Your nemesis can smell your fear,
like honey, in the dark.
Interacting with pure blood,
smeared with hallowed stain.
Can He ever get enough of,
wet dreams from your pain?
Dancing with the spectral Death;
Jezebel in scheme,
you won't feel His claws or breath,
before He hears you scream.
He has been around for eons,
and He designed the game.
His specialty is crucifixion,
do you know His Name?
Lost in this mindless zone;
where the trophy case stays filled;
leave the Origins of chaos alone,
let it balance karma's will.
And so;the fame points to the name,
familiar tactics, sure.
But what if the Master of all this disaster,
was not just Lucifer?
Copyright © Carol Richard Weyler | Year Posted 2011
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