Vitrified by the curses
of a crystal woven sky
stands a feeble mortal
a vivarium,my prison!
"This is the Rubicon" says the voice
ripping apart the silence of the haunting night.
Rearmed were they
with the weapons of death
every breath choked
and the residuum left stench
for resurrected are the howls
of darkness and possession.
Day after day and night after night
we heard the reveille
when life wrapped itself under covers of fear
and armies of death marched
the mothers in taffeta
wrote an ode to their sons.
Glistening with blood
they lick their sharp claws
laminar coatings of flesh
leave the mortal souls
far away the oboe bids farewell
the obliterated joy mumbles in the night.
Gazing into the dark realms
a taste of vermicide before the eternal dissect
the yews standing still
waiting for the storm
a drop trickles down
the prisoners are free.
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