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Posted July 16, 2012 by Bradley Howington in Poems About Horror
 
 

Dark Sinister

Light a candle for me,
because the undead speaks
untouch my grave—
oh, you can’t? I see.
Why shovel me away,
and plant a seed for
well, what the world
believes to be true?

I’ll haunt you until your end
until the day you suffer for
what it is you did, to all living
so think of me as Dark Sinister
the death that handles all bullshit
because you’re full of it.

Place your shovel on my headstone
in remembering what was done to, me
I’m back, to dispose of a body
because someone called me
“Dark Sinister!” she begged,
“take him, take him, take him!”
I couldn’t refuse, I couldn’t hold back
the rage of thinking of all your violent, acts
but, I’m here to start a flame—
hey, do light a candle for me.