Andrew Crisci Poet Rhyme

I Tripped On Weeping Stones

The strangest and weirdest vision
flashed across the purple wall
painted by a scrubby rascal,
where a blood-stained altar
was used to offer humans to Satan;
the eulogy dedicated to the next victim  
was terribly frightening and resounded with sadism:
the specter's eyes were darker than tar
and too menacing to anyone not shouting a line
and did not participate in the daily sacrifice,
but kept away and challenged the guiltless vile! 

I tripped on weeping stones
smeared with the stench of blood,
some of them profusely bled;
they shook under my trotting,
emitting many painful moans: 
they thought I was their biblical Savior,
little I could do to ease their moaning
and looked away in a mood so sad!

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