The fool tried

Slimy wet rose upon white bone was held within his hands

Freshly skinned skull staring back at him from his palms with hollowed eyes

The smell of victory abounds

The sounds of mortal screams echoed all around

He stood proud and tall and that wasn’t all

His victims heart had only just stopped – the fool

Fool to think he could do him down

That he could win the war

But he showed this fool he was wrong and his heart is now on the floor

Too many have suffered the same fate

But many believe they are strong

And now they lie in a deathly sleep

And their families mourn their song

A pile of skin by the killer’s feet is a sentiment of his fate

For one should not believe they can burn the devil’s gate

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