In the night time wonderland of the malevolent moon that prospers
The bloody stench of death stains the blackening petals of the rose
The rose that honours the decaying of the fallen and the gutless
Throw me the wreath that I shall lay at the feet of the mighty oak
And may we continue our battle of the skulls that fall from hell
And together we shall dwell in this old world where the fearless are feared
And the rain falls crimson on the guiltless pallid robes we adorn
A world that we are born into as the guilty victims of pleasures to beastiality
I stand and stare at the mischievous sprite in the face all the while
Internal bleeding seeping through the broken heart bleating at my swollen flesh
Spiritual minds condones the sadistic natures as we stand
We stand and we wait until we witness the life that grows from the weeping blood
Another skull falls as our backs are turned to the brutality called time
Hand in hand I walk with the standing breathing torso of sin
Passing the rotten appendages, I lower my head and let my face shroud
It hides beneath the strangly drapes as I walk away from the Oakland cenotaph
And I will turn back only to live it all again
© Pamela James-Blackwood 2007
Pamela James Blackwood
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-falling/
