The Creature that Gathers

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When birds gather human bones, they build themselves a nest-

And scour across the lands, in search of who is next-

 For wings beat, and fire flickers upon it;

A skeletal face, with lips to kiss-

And arms with peeling flesh; hands like talons-

Gathering up souls, either single, or by the dozen-

Red drink is but blood, as a liquid for it’s lunch-

And flesh is burned crispy, and then nibbled upon, with a crunch-

Forty glaring eyes, scattered all over it’s face;

Gnashing and grinding, and putting souls to waste-

Ten noses upon it, used to sniff, sniff-

And whiffing up dried blood;

Ten limbs, would it lift-

And windows lifted too, to enter into rooms-

And to gather up the souls, standing right behind you..!

Copyrightcopyright March 25, 2014

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