The Priest

wolvenreign

This is a short, dark, gruesome little poem I made up on the spot a few days ago. I edited it briefly to smooth out the edges. What do you all think?

Spoiler:

The Priest

Alone in the darkness, the children cry, awake even in sleep. The priest bears them as his cross, those he calls "lost sheep".

Screws drive into their fingers as they cry. Their only sin was to question, "Why?".

The priest turns each twist with his tool, the spiral rod which spares no fool. His ecstacy at each coil is wild, his motto ever "spare the rod, spoil the child".

He licks his dagger fangs with every scream, their nightmares are his favorite dream. In silence he laughs with malice and worse, with his tongue he recites bible verse.

When his sermon finished with "Amen, peace", he would cut them up and bless every piece. Gold crosses were stuck into their hearts, holy water submerging other parts.

Tonight's slaughter would be his last, for a demon would haunt him from his past. The orphan he called "the one that got away", came back this full-moon night to play.

A small blade in the child's hands, he leapt from blackness with fatal demands.

His dagger struck the priest hard and fast, the reverend's breath to be his last.

He saw what he thought were heaven's gate, the destiny he denied many a child's fate. The facts, however, was quite clear; his guess to the truth wasn't near.

The fire on his hands told reality bright; the lie was in the snow-colored light. The flames of hell...BURN...WHITE.

The end.

Endless_Serpents

Its very much what I expected and stands poorly on its own, but I think if you could ever work it into a larger piece, like a novel or computer game, it could work.

Perhaps you could create some kind of typography artwork using this, I feel it just needs some umph.