They stand like tall soldiers, chest out in pride, stern lips a'frowning conceit in their eyes. Their voices like thunder, they gallop the land. Their will be done over, and turn dreams to sand. O'where O'where justice just where can you be, to smite these fools down, corrupt in their glee? My sisters and I ready to do as you bid, we crave their blood and life in a whim.
I see little morsels, such tasteful delights. I'll rip out their throats and turn off their lights. Dance to their screams, arms raised as if drunk. Stampede their corpses, turn smell into funk. A tear over here and a tear over there, here a tear til their bones be laid bare. From the cries of the young to the cries of the old, we shall fasten their deaths as if precious gold.
Let us lament, shall we not? Let us she'd tear for the fools that will rot. Their trespass a road, their deeds a misfortune, they did not stray, and this is their portion. To end sad life, to finally find peace. We shall play part, and enjoy them as feast.
The Fates (A Tale of the Fallen: Lilith coming soon)
© Grace Charles