William King

Message From Hell

As I walk to the grave
Of the people I gave
To my master, his slave fills with hate
The butcher am I
As I soar cross the sky
A part of the devils fate
Now my hands are stained red
For I kill and make dead
All the sinners in our little world
But the cords of my soul
Are both rivet and holed
Where my master has carved out his mark

Death to the lords son
And death to the world
And death to all peoples far and wide
I have hate boiled up
And a passion so foul
so all times I must kill

My scythe dripping red
And my prey freshly dead
With the blood of a child stained on me
I’ve done many before
But not quite an encore
Of this horrid spectacular deed

Watch your back son
For I can make you one
With the monsters who’re under your bed
And I’ll do it for him
My great lord and jinn
So watch, or you’ll be dead.

Poem Submitted: Monday, April 9, 2007
Poem Edited: Saturday, February 12, 2011

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