DEEMONS CALLING
BY FIONA CUMMINGS
She came at him with a spear
No conscience without any fear
As she stabbed at his heart
Tearing limbs until his body was apart
Soaked by his blood
Removing all that was good
Smashing his head with a plank of wood
Not stopping until he was gone
Finished him off she knew she should
But then in the way
One summer’s day
An angel stepped in between them
Spreading their wings until she was blocked
Wrapping silver strands around her neck until she choked
Leaving her gasping
on the ground
No one to help
Silence around
Her gold wealth couldn’t help her now
Lines of torture on her punishing brow
Who would want her
If they found her
Who would warm her with freshly stained fur
Who would lay her down on fine silk
Feed her with creamed milk
Pick her fruit from the blooming tree
For sure not me
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