The One in the Black Cape

November 6, 2009
Death, horror, by a rope,
As the city falls
The gallows grow.
History and the things that were,
Are soon destroyed and forgotten.
The people watch in horror with no hope,
They wrap their eyes as not to cry,
For fear that they may not cope.
The darkness grows and the air thins,
From the silent moans and groans of the innocent.
The hangman lays his hands upon the rope,
With no regret and no true place to go.
The city as darkness and the darkness as the night full soul,
Of the black caped one they call death.

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