Vigil Of Ancient Butchers
A Poem Exploring The Sins Of Human Spirit
Mutilation of our dreamt emancipation Limbs splattered awry, in our eyes it lingers A deepened hatred, a saturated haze A misty memory of inhuman figures Red tears pouring profusely from their brows Pieces torn to shreds of likeness uncouth Humanity, wherefore art thou humanity If within thee lies a mythical beast A legendary creature of old still haunting The butcher yet comes from within our spirits Monstrosity, humanity, through the looking glass Of both we provide vigil in our reflection Such reversal is apocalypse in our waiting More dangerous yet for monsters hide well They cheat and serve but only for themselves Look deeper yet or risk serving your servant The specter’s of trickery rarely they tarry A beast of fantasy, a feigning red fairy Bloodied and relishing the gruesome disguise Can you see it, there in its alluring box? Is this normal, can’t we see? What say Pandora?
Bound by strife, beasts escaping without our purview Is this normal, or are ancient sins nigh?
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