The Prayer - Poetry
The dead of the night,
With winds tickling your bones.
The howling nature,
And the cold poking you away.
Something sinister sure is in air,
For a night such as this,
Can but be any other.
The secret was buried deeply,
It was all but a piece of cake.
An empire of passion,
Lay shattered at his feet.
Ready for the sunrise,
An a new era to dawn.
An asylum was to be seeked,
For hours to come by.
The bay of the dead,
Had the bodies floating by sunrise.
Lay in the shores,
They begot what they did.