He Rises

 From the very heart of darkness,

the black oiled depths of

a million burning hates,

he rises.

Eight feet of burning,

livid flesh, stands, and

flexes his claws, red,

covered from the blood

of thousands of false lies.

He rises, the product of a

million years of pain,

fire, blood leaked from

faltered wounds.

His pain unbeknown to all,

his torment pales only to Jesus,

his hate and anger rivaled,

only by Lucifer himself.

And on nights when the moon

is full, and a scream, a scream

of violation from a pure soul,

he rises.

Standing alone, the devilish prodigy

of lost dreams and slaughtered hopes,

he rises.

From hate, to only more,

he rises.

Beware,

he rises.

Comments 1 comment

peachpurple profile image

peachpurple 19 months ago from Home Sweet Home

is that satan? Sounds like one

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