Cursed
Cursed
Burnt red desert
Tiny slivers of light
Cacti on parched ground
The bane of wolf
A slow erotic urge
Cries of a man
Dark desires, needing purged
Blood moon glowing bright
Chilly frost in the air
Smell of blood and lust
Rancid , wafting and decayed hair
The cold hard reality
They all died with sin
And buried six feet under
encased forever within
Copyright © James Tuders | Year Posted 2018
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