Anastasia Mortmain
Envy,
Can not be friendly.
Pain,
Can be in vain.
Sadness,
Can become madness.
The teeth of monsters open at night,
They give us, people, all a fright.
They go around the forest floor,
Looking for the otherwordly door.
They have escaped all hell and fire,
Your figures dance upon the keyboard,
Dresses swish around the floor.
Then she enters, Oh, my Lord!
Opening the heavy door.
I turn around to eye the woman,
Darkness drips off your fingers
Covering the floor with pools of blood.
There have been so many figures,
Most now laying in the mud.
So many lives were lost,
We listen to the teachers,
We listen to them talk.
They sound to us like preachers.
We kiss the ground on which they walk.
We follow all their bindings,
The trees grow high,
Nearly touching the sky.
Tons, their bodies weigh
And be just gods they may.
They look upon us from their height,
The devil has come to take me away
Not even looking at the leaves’ sway
As now I swear that they will be bare
Leaving the light to the nightly mare
Hades takes me away to his dearly home
When famine comes to feed on us
We fight it just like life taught us,
We go from one field to another
In hope that we could feed our brother.
We roam the fields in light and dark,
The skulls are lying calm
Plants rising from their sockets
Bees circling their foreheads
Each forming a God-like halo.