The Necromancers Dirge
Look at the dead outside my windowWonder what's on their mind
My one and only love is an eternal widow
For undeath is all I can find
My flesh is an awkward clothing
Somehow the spectres wails are soothing
My refuge is death in a dead abode
An empowering zeal becomes a goad
Dark urges hoard in my heart
A new course I've come to chart
The curvature of the ritual dagger sings for me a screaming dirge
From under the robes of the disgruntled conjurers necromancers emerge
Poetry by Rex Panthera
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Written on 2009-11-28 at 13:09
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liz munro |
