Dirt, Rock and Water

just another Sunday poem. Don't worry folks. I'm almost done with the story.

The day the dawn

Brings demon spawn

As dead-eyed wolves

That prey upon

Innocents in their own green lawn

Sunday will know who comes.

 

The wolves will rise

With sanguine skies

A hundredfold

Multiplied

Their cruelty won't be denied

She's sent her soldiers by tons.

 

She's death's absolute daughter

Red-ruling against your father

When life is dissalowed

Her wolf army brings the slaughter

Born from dirt, rock and water.

 

        She'll call her wolves and they will rise

              From dirt, rock and water.

 

Black wolf

Leading

The monstrous

Team

Gross beasts

Streaming

Into Sunday's

Streets

Listen, hear

Screaming

Because there's no

Retreat

A wolf with baby in the cradle

Feeding on horse in the stable

Preying on priest in the steeple

The new black plague for the people

Their flagrant guile

Continues while

Your plaintive wailing

Continues

As is her morbid style

Sunday falls under mire

Of mud, blood,

And X-Queen's desire

To be Sunday's empire!

 

The king steps out with his troops, at last

Raising every weapon, fast

But the wolves have done what they've been asked

So just like that

Making room for Death's Daughter

They return to Dirt

Rock

and Water.

Author's Note

I feel as if I am dragging this story on. The next will be the last you hear of Sunday for a while.

Reviews

[Tasha]

I like these, I also feel they are a bit mysterious. Great work.
♥ Ta'Shandra

[Lindsey]

I enjoy reading these they are mysterious to me.

[dreaming dame]

I loved it. The word morbid too. :):)
I guess it'll take a while for the world
of Sunday's battle to end. :)