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Devil's Potpie
In the distance storms thunder
as imposters speak the tongue
of the dead staining the sane
dripping down the rain
letting the river of blood run
washing my flesh clean
awaiting my fate
reflecting on my eternal wings
as I go fishing in the night
devouring bones at first bite
baiting the scythe with flesh
from the devil's potpie
as imposters speak the tongue
of the dead staining the sane
dripping down the rain
letting the river of blood run
washing my flesh clean
awaiting my fate
reflecting on my eternal wings
as I go fishing in the night
devouring bones at first bite
baiting the scythe with flesh
from the devil's potpie
Published 28th Oct 2022
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28th Oct 2022 7:06pm
28th Oct 2022 7:09pm
