Crows

The day was long and dreary

And now at night, the Man was weary

The road ahead met him much dismay

Behind him, his path away

The Man was running afar

Leaving his mind ajar

His demons sought his head

Rarely could he lay in bed

And when he could, his eyes remained open

The Lord, he no longer put his hope in

His demise lie with the crows

And this was the final blow

Alas, he has returned home

Seemingly escaping the unknown

But that which hides adjacent

Will never truly be vacant

He sits his hat on the rod

But he ignores the voice of God

The Man continues the trek to his room

Hoping to reach the end, before his doom

His demons drew near

Though he tried, he had fear

He grew ever closer

His brain seeing things grosser

Finally, he could see his bed

But he couldn’t quiet the voice in his head

And like a book, he was read

His visitor extends his hand

He refuses to meet the sinister demand

He must make it to noon

Lest he be enslaved by the Moon

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Crescent Moon

Several days passed

The Man did indeed last

He survived only by his fast

He came to believe again

And desired to serve his fellow men

He had found hope

Despite days ago being at the end of his rope

The King’s men called him forth

And he rose, and rode to the north

Impressed, the King made the Man an offer

To dine with him, though he was not a Stoffer

And they ate, long past the closing of the gate

The Man knew something was wrong

He could feel he did not belong

That which radiated from the King, was hate

The Man was simply bait, and feared his fate

As the King came forward, his face changed

He became gruesome, a sight that pained

A dark warrior arose, in the past famed

The King was not alive anymore

The Man had not time to figure out what for

Assaulted, the plague befell him

The Man could not let him in

But the Warrior once the King pursued

A strong plot against the world construed

With hate, the old hero became consumed

Seeing red, chasing the man

The war within, there began

Fighting and clawing for escape from the Warrior’s grasp

He was let free, but oh so soon

His mistake was running for the crescent moon

The Woods

 

“Come on, Mick!” Mick’s Mom beckoned. “You’ll be late!” Mick didn’t want to get up for school, but he knew he had to. There was only a week left, anyways. “Can’t I just skip?” He called back, groggily. “You know you can’t!” His Mom replied. Mick was just 17. His parents were already pushing him to pick a job and college. He wanted a job, but didn’t feel college was for him. Not yet, at least.

Mick reluctantly got out of bed. He looked around his room. It was a mess. Clothes scattered everywhere, school work on the floor. Spike, his dog had shredded some of his homework. Spike had done this many times before, and Mick’s teachers never believed him. It is, after all, the oldest excuse in the book.

Mick got in the shower, cleaned up, got out, brushed his teeth, and got dressed. “Another worthless day.” He muttered. His mother came in his room and heard this. She was a woman in her late 30s, was always dressed to impress, and had long, black hair. “Don’t say that. Every day has value!” She said. “You look nice. Still trying to impress Jasper?” Mick was tired of his Mom always mentioning Jasper. Jasper was the girl he always liked. And his parents liked her too.

“It’s never going to happen. She’s in a whole other league. I’m not good enough.” Mick said, annoyed. “Just saying, you should try!” His Mom declared, handing him his backpack. “Thanks.” Mick said depressingly. “Oh, also, your

Impressum

Verlag: BookRix GmbH & Co. KG

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 19.07.2019
ISBN: 978-3-7487-1028-8

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Dedicated in loving memory to my Grandmother, Eva Blanton, my late sister Macallie, and my Mother, as well as my fans. Godspeed!