100-WORDS

The Song

A dramatical poetry

Photo by Kati Hoehl on Unsplash

The Spawn of Satan plays his anthem,

He chooses his victims, not the random,

He hymns a lullaby to spew the venom,

And when conjured, he slays them.

One, two, three, four

He soared to roar, greedy for more.

Five, six, seven

He commissioned the procession.

When,

He found me as a goat,

and took me to his boat,

amplified the horror with every note,

and none bailed to vote,

Then I gathered a garrote.

He turned to me,

to complete an octave,

When he worshipped his lords,

I pulled his chords,

To end his song.

For he was wrong.

This is an avenging tale.

Thank you jules. Your poem reminded me of this drabble.

The Drabblesnet Piper. jules interpretation of poetry 2022–3 | by jules | Promptly Written | Jan, 2022 | Medium