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
Read 490 times
Written on 2009-11-28 at 13:09
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
|
liz munro |
