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.