Turning Nocturnal

As the banshee howls, and the full moon looms
where the werewolf howls for the bane to bloom
and your prayers lie unanswered for your screams are not heard

and the dark swoops in on the wings of a bird
lucifer's laugh lifts the hair on your back
and your palms are asweat from the feelings that you lack
your life drains away and your limbs start to quiver,
your last gasp of air pours from your lungs like a river

your soul looms over your corpse,
watch it in dismay. it froths and foams
and eventually decays
there's nothing you can do now,
anything you can say, your body and soul
are forever torn away
you're doomed to rot in hell

This poem was written by me when I was 11 (1985)..

Cocaine Kiss
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All poems and stories on this web page are (C)Copyright 1996 - 1999 by Ronald Rand.