deepundergroundpoetry.com

Returned

The Returned

Crawling from within the dept .
He dragged his body through wet soil.
The stench of rotten flesh,
gives a root to his condemned soul.

With a shiver, creatures hide in fear,
as they witness a dead man walking.
Chains are heard from across fields that are bare,
the demon he chants quietly whispering.

"I am going to be your leader.
Death is now in my hand.
Give your soul to me in surrender,
Or you'll be wiped clean off
the surface of my land"

Your children are not safe,
delicious young souls for the welcoming feast.
Morgues decorating cases after cases,
your dying child's breath going up in release.

The bodies they accumulate,
as the order is re-enforced.
Exterminating the so-called innocents,
the minions of hell do as their told.

"Following the leader,
Death is in his hand.
Rendering our souls, we surrender,
as he spreads the shadows,
across this already dead land."

His nails are blackened by dried blood,
as he seduces himself with the scent.
A woman can come at his bellow.
or a man to please him till he's spent.

So many centuries in the dark,
He looks at the kingdom he's fought to earn.
This is his ruins; king of the crap.
The true king has returned.

"Follow your leader.
Death is now in my hand.
Give your soul to me, and surrender.
From the shadows, I rose
to finally rule over my land"