Of the Night - Poem

Lords of the darkness,
King of the night.

Born in the dreaded hour,
A seed took form.

It was only too late,
That they did realize the spot.

With not a lot of hope,
They set sailing.

With an eye on destruction,
The knights set out marching.

Turning the battlefield,
Into but a pool of blood,
They turned around to set on a journey.

Prison cells brimmed,
Like a river during the rain.

Spots of weakness,
Stood out inviting trouble.

The valley of shadows,
A warning to the rest.

Hanging bodies by the neck,
A tale to stop them from doing the same.

Photo by Marius Masalar on Unsplash