Poem: Blessed he who weeps


Darkness was their first gift,
night pulled as a curtain across
the celestial temple of heaven.

Rapturous the demons dine
on frenzied blood and body.
There, where a mouth had been,
something new is spawning
with jaws that open outward
and devour.

And him in the middle
with his rictus grin
and heart a human flutter.
Bloodshed brings bitter tears
for a fallen son ascending.

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