Something at the Door
--
We hear something at the door, and with some grit I do ignore
The dark thing glaring through the window on my porch
But my guest still seems so frightened,
and his skin begins to whiten
My only choice to grip and tighten
the ropes around his hands and feet
The figure in the shadows, steps into moonlight to expose
The yellowed teeth that fill its endless clacking mouths
My bound friend screams,
he won’t stop shaking,
his twisting body’s ceaseless quaking
It’s quite a mess he’s making
on the table I must sanctify
If I’m fast, the god might spare me,
though the rite must be done fairly
Only tribute dually warned,
yet trapped,
would do
But the texts aren’t written clearly,
the grimoires have faded dearly
The tomes all rotted nearly
till rewards are cloaked in riddles,
mere guessing games
And now the door is breaking,
the hungry power’s bent on taking
The offering whose crime was curiosity
I must be quick, my knife is flashing,
in a heartbeat it falls, crashing
But is the blood that’s splashing
the bound victim’s,
or is it mine?
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