The Dead Are Dead Poem by John Dillenger II

Another piece of paper wasted by my pointless hand
Yet another fruitless, pointless plan.
This day they aim to raise the dead,
but the dead will always need to be fed.
So who will be the first to fall,
but the one who gave the beck and call.
So raise the dead.
You may succeed.
But die in doing so,
you will indeed.
For without the sacrifice of a life,
no mortal soul can be brought back from afterlife.
So as you dance with the devil tonight,
be prepared for the fight.
The devil is not above a dirty trick.
He'll poke your eye out with a burning stick,
and watch your back, his minions are there.
But to look away from him, I wouldn't dare.
you give him a sword, he'll run you through.
So tell me, boy, what will you do?