Belivers Poem by Noon E

Mark the date on the calendar

Mark it with red

Sharpen the teeth of the believers

For they will feast

Expensive meat, that of the hypocrite

Its smell is sweet but its taste sweeter

Devour before the moon wakes

Before the sky turns black

Dwarf the demons inside by shedding the light

Run ontop the hill and cut a thousands mouths

Bathe in your enemy's skin and feel the wrath

Wait till your sins expose all the darkness within

Carve the bones out and behead the animal

It takes in its last breath and it hears the knives

Lull it to sleep, give him back to the sheep

Eye the games in its hands, the hypocrite dies

But his minions live