A little something for the Dark Poetry Contest. |
A Hollow Heart The child was born on a dark, dreary eve "The Night of the Grim" And the night of me. I circled above as the ceremonies began, this child of filth, the task at hand. The prophets were frantic running about casting enchantments to keep evil out. My boy lay in the stable, the perfect martyr, he who would kill me: the Eternal Harter. "Run in fear sons of man" my rasp echoed divine, "go home to your wives, this child is mine!" I fell upon the weak with practiced hand sending them fleeing from this blighted land. "You'd be my slayer? You could kill me? The Killer of Gods? A Child of Three?!" It was here in the night when the Grim spoke loud that an army advanced, an army and a cloud. "The heart of lion, that's what they've said, would kill the Grim Reaper? I'm already dead!" The Grim's cackle sounded and half the force wavered arrows notched silently for the kill to be savored. So the cloud grew restless in this odd frightening the army awaiting signal it started to lightening. And as the first raindrop nestled into the ground the whistles of arrows consumed all sound. And the Grim screamed, a curse ringing true, I can't die yet, my time isn't due! So he planted his Seed In his killers heart which hollowed it out causing soul to depart. The Grim's head twitched, cloak whipping the wind, and disappeared in a flash, the advocate of sin. Then three second later as Sir Edward came out, the newborn started crying, heart full of doubt. A Hollow Heart, by Tilli for ReflectingEye's Dark Poetry Contest. |