Aprille T. - 11/6/2007 10:55 AM ET
This is not poetry. This comes from the mind of a very sick individual. My suggestion is seek help and seek GOD.
putrid fluids seep from her wounds stench of pus and rot powerfully exudes held captive suspeneded by chains a pregnant woman, slave of the deranged hooded figures chant in candlelight burning bones of rapists to summon demon might flogging their hanging captive, eleciting screams her pain part of ritual, that the leader glimpsed in dreams the child within her, destined for great things so they prepare its coming the coming of their king for months she has suffered now nearly ripe just waiting for the full moons ghastly light the time is here the ninth month is at hand in circle gathered, one at each point of the pentagram their chants begin, and he steps forth to slit her throat releasing blood in thick red froth quick slice of the blade, her womb laid open into the gore the seal is broken raising the child, into the air they begin to feed it blood, gently with care unholy suckling, now complete he is born, the opposite, a slap to Gods cheek in secret they will raise Him, awaiting the day when to power He will rise, and all mankind enslave |
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Comments 1 to 3 of 3
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