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Poetry News Post #799

nightcrawler

Written by: Infernal Squire Lorna, Ward of the Iron Citadel
Date: Thursday, August 30th, 2001
Addressed to: Opportunistic Prince Nightcrawler, the Speaker for the Dead


Howling winds keep screaming round
And the rain comes pouring down
Doors are locked and bolted now
As the thing crawls into town

Straight out of hell
One of a kind
Stalking his victim
Don't look behind you
Night Crawler
Beware the beast in black
Night Crawler
You know he's coming back
Night Crawler

Sanctuary is being sought
Whispered prayers a last resort
Homing in its cry distorts
Terror struck they know they're caught

As night is falling
The end is drawing near
They'll hear
Their last rites echo on the wind

Huddled in the cellar
Fear caught in their eyes
Daring not to move or breathe
As the creature cries
Fingernails start scratching
On the outside wall
Clawing at the windows
"Come to me" it calls
Atmosphere's electric
As it now decends the stairs
Hiding in the darkness
Is so futile from its glare
Death comes in an instant
As they hoped it would
Souls ascend to heaven
While it feasts on flesh and blood


just for the record i didn't write it but i thought it was fitting.


Lorna

Penned by my hand on the 16th of Valnuary, in the year 285 AF.


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Poetry News Post #799

nightcrawler

Written by: Infernal Squire Lorna, Ward of the Iron Citadel
Date: Thursday, August 30th, 2001
Addressed to: Opportunistic Prince Nightcrawler, the Speaker for the Dead


Howling winds keep screaming round
And the rain comes pouring down
Doors are locked and bolted now
As the thing crawls into town

Straight out of hell
One of a kind
Stalking his victim
Don't look behind you
Night Crawler
Beware the beast in black
Night Crawler
You know he's coming back
Night Crawler

Sanctuary is being sought
Whispered prayers a last resort
Homing in its cry distorts
Terror struck they know they're caught

As night is falling
The end is drawing near
They'll hear
Their last rites echo on the wind

Huddled in the cellar
Fear caught in their eyes
Daring not to move or breathe
As the creature cries
Fingernails start scratching
On the outside wall
Clawing at the windows
"Come to me" it calls
Atmosphere's electric
As it now decends the stairs
Hiding in the darkness
Is so futile from its glare
Death comes in an instant
As they hoped it would
Souls ascend to heaven
While it feasts on flesh and blood


just for the record i didn't write it but i thought it was fitting.


Lorna

Penned by my hand on the 16th of Valnuary, in the year 285 AF.


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