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Poem

Behold the painting before your eyes!
It's no hoax, just reality with no disguise.
See the colours, mostly red,
Painted with the blood of dead.
In brilliant hues that chill the bone
Of fear and pain's every tone.

Stand in silence to hear the weeping
Of Loved ones' pain, forever keeping.
Touch the canvas, feel how thick
The paint is painted in time not quick,
But over and over, never drying
As more is added from the dying.

Watch the brush, ever steady,
Always painting, always ready,
Adding new pain and more sorrow
With every today, as well tomorrow.
The brush is clutched in hatred's hand,
Obedient only to satan's command.

Drop your sights down below,
Where is caught the overflow;
Where the canvas drips
Waiting are thirsting lips.
The devil's wine of souls tormented
With pain and sorrow, laced and scented.

Now feel the strong, intense vibration
Of the wicked's pleasure in celebration.
A party ongoing, on blood they feast,
Worship and praise their satan beast.
Spawns of satan, subjects loyal
Harvesting souls from earthly soil.

Behold the painting before your eyes,
So surreal when with no disguise,
Where the devil's hand with evil strokes,
The blood of souls, his canvas, soaks.
The Devil's Canvas, lost from Light,
In darkness shrouded, a horrific sight!

Written by Artsieladie/Sharon Donnelly
©2018-02-18 18:25:00 (EST) All rights reserved.

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