" 'appy 'alloween" - A poet bee

'appy 'alloween
a poet bee

Evil spirts,
be upon thee.
Dark angels,
Swirlin' over'ead,
ever so silently,
brewin' a spell,
dey wear
dead faces
from d' underworld.
Dey bear
an infectious gift
of slow justice,
Yer life's end
is joyfully,
dreadfully near.
Yer selfish
deeds done,
moons ago,
betrayed trust,
loyalty, honor.
Y' lied to us.
Of course y' do.
As do we.
And our blood
does too.
Hatred feeds
slowly in silence,
grows, strengthens.
Now she's strong,
ready for revenge.
Vile bleeds
from our hearts,
sweats from our pores,
cries from our eyes
for yer demise.
Relive yer wicked sins
'n repeat yer lies,
again, and again,
'til our curse
of insanity
comfo'ts y',
befo' death cures y'.
Yer laughs,
children's screams,
tears, now men.
Every day, every hour,
pray fo' fo'giveness.
Beg in yer dreams.
No Christ t' hear y'.
So d' 'evil
will fondle
yer empty soul
in 'ell
for eternity.
Our eyes now watch
from d' shadows.
Y' sleep troubled,
guilty, restless,
not oblivious
to our call
fo' yer death.
Fear d' spirits
dat wait
wid such hate.
Dey'll 'ave no pity.
So, Francis pleads mercy.
No! Man's misdeeds curse ye,
Y' can try t' run,
y' can try t' 'ide,
but yer guilt
'angs deep inside.
Y's done.
Evil eats evil.
Save us some trouble,
kill y'self!
No note needed,
welcome t' hell.

for more photos of spirits found in moth wings,
visit A poet bee's
frightfully good page
and click on the links

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