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Like midnight bells they came,
With a soft crystalline sound,
Of the famous without fame,
And left bloody footprints on the ground.
Like midnight hounds they prowled,
As if searching for a meal,
With piercing voices, howled,
And searched for skin to peel.
Like midnight riders they arrived,
Black claws on your creaky porch,
And like guilty children so deprived,
They lit the fire to the torch.
Like midnight children they destroyed,
Everyone, everything covered in red,
And the destruction they enjoyed,
As you lay dying in my bed.
 Morgana The Heartless · Sun Aug 26, 2007 @ 05:20am · 2 Comments |
