What you give...

November 21, 2017

He came clad in black attire,
The air seemed to have grown cold.
Claiming to be from from the spire.

His stance was bold,
With eyes blazing fire,
Just as it was foretold,
As if he rose from hellfire,
His stature was threefold.
But what would transpire?

His voice was one to behold,
loud as canon fire,
As he scold.
His eyes may have been afire,
Yet his skin was ice cold,
He was dark and in dire.
For he is the fool that sold,
His soul to desire,






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