The Ghost Match
In the field of thoughts two teams rallied their troops
Banners held aloft, The front runners tense but ready
Around the side, Over the top, Up and around in loops
No referee to oversee this encounter, Just a demons eye to watch the mist
The game begins with the trickling blood from the devils wrist
Anger to fight happiness, The shout goes up, And into battle they go
Assaults are commonplace on this stage of war, An ear shattering blow
The demon manages to catch a negative thought, He lurches into the affray
His body pulped and blistered, His eyes burning as children play
But the power of good envelopes his stricken life form, Lifting him away
Crumpling the once formidable leader of evil like a clamp, Sinews give way
His putrid blood spills, Dripping into oblivion he begins to pray
The End.
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