Desperado Poem by Stuart Logan

He calls in the night,
His subtle spanish accent striking at the air itself.
Force is commanded within every word he speaks,
Like a snake, poised to snap out and deliver death to it's victim.
Razor edged fangs glisten with blood,
As he tastes the vile course of life.
It sickens him,
Because he has none.
The sickness spreads like a virus,
Infecting every aspect of his being,
Making him lose himself in the bloodlust.
Envy defiles all he knows,
Lust corrupts his emotions,
Wrath disrupts his compassion.
The fire calls to him.
It doesn't like being cheated of souls.
It wants him.
He is too swift, too silent, too deadly,
To live a life of mortals.
He is destined for a truth of lies,
It will cost him his soul.
Erebus awaits for him.
An eternity more torturous than any knowledge given,
Destiny is death.