The Demons Dance

2018-03-16 23.47.07

Spirit shadows
Borrowed from the darkness,
Melancholy minions of sin
Draped in penumbral dusk,
Circle and sway,
Close in on their prey,
Lustful for the kill.

The demons dance
A heaving, taunting mass,
Chanting their litany of lies,
A thousand deadly knives
To pierce the soul
And leave it bleeding,
Moribund, wretched.

A frenzied horde,
Hell’s fiends gambol and gloat
In vainglorious revelry,
Drunk on that rich claret,
Misère et Mort—
A deep, vindictive,
Bittersweet vintage.

©2018 Joanne Van Leerdam

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