Beneath The Cover Of A Blood Red Moon

The fowl less stench that filled the room
Beneath the cover of blood red moon
The wench was held within my hand
Till the soul was ripped from her man

Grimly smide was whipped and cried
While others watched and others died
I felt the splinters cut like knives
That forces the tears from your very eyes

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| Poetry 13 |

Copyright © Darryn John Murphy