THE DARK PLACE

Foul things lumber through the dark place
A place that knows only terror and dread,
Where innocents die in the small of the night
And the rivers are all flowing bright red.

Foul creatures hunt through the dark place
Preying on both beast and man,
Eating whatever their great jaws may snatch
And slaughtering whatever they can.

Dark fiends roar through the dark place
Killing by day or by night,
Grotesque beasts from out of Dante’s locale
Whose victims will oft die from fright.

Misshapen things crawl through the dark place
Throwbacks from primordial times,
Whose visage can make stronger men weep
And drive weaker men out of their minds.

A dull lowing wafts through the dark place
A lowing of horrendous pain,
All good folk have flown from the dark place
Leaving the weak, the infirm, the insane!

THE END
© Copyright 2021 Philip Roberts
Melbourne, Victoria, Australia