In the Holy Grail of Spite

September 2016

Midnight sky, many strive,

Twisted sight, many writhe,

Ailing mind, many plights,

Bodies hollowed-out of might

All gargoyles's eyes on what beneath lies.

Belligerence beckons them with light,

The fervant servants of strife and plight,

Although, these, only to blind

In another midnight.

Dust flies in the abyssmal sigh,

Bells toll in the silent night

Announcing: thy cold fate is nigh!

And all shall drown sorrow

In the holy grail of spite.