Poet #10- The Road of Insanity

MUSIC: http://www.youtube.com/watch#!v=J9zatuWugGI&feature=related

The road is veiled in shodow;
The withered trees are stark.
There is writing etched into wood;
The road is lost and dark.
Blood is dripping like morning dew,
And the wolves are calling.
They are tearing, biting my skin,
And blood is falling.
Mist rises in the forest eaves,
I cannot find my way.
And there is something approaching,
That makes me beg for day.
Oh how I love to dance on air,
As I nakedly prance.
Feel the cold air on my skin,
In an ecstasy trance.

A crow lands about my being,
Picking at melting snow
be this an omen or a sign?
My death to feed the crow.
I feast on hare right from the bone,
Uncooked it is and rare.
The juices dribble down my skin,
As I pick the bone bear.
Upon a hill bathed in moonlight
There lies a splintered mill.
Yet still the broken blades do spin;
A shrill cry from the hill.
"Your soul will die, but I shall fly!"
The cry escapes my lips.
But from the window I do leap;
Blades break my bones like whips.
On the ground I lie in silence,
My body gone, broken.
And lie in eternal slumber
Ne'er to be awoken.,
"He, he, he you can only wish
From this you cannot flee.
From my torment lies no escape
I am doom he, he, he."

The End

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