The Face of Darkness

The scream of fear and pain echoed throughout
the sinister forest, but only fell on my ears.
The killer was in action, weilding his hefty
sword against God's chosen innocent, for she
had reached the end of her Earth-bound sentence.

Satisfying his greedy heart, his primal urge,
his chemically sickened brain, his twisted
bretheren, and the vocation of Lucifer's word,
he hacked and whacked again again again.

A warm rain of red splattered his face, but
he did not notice because he could only
feel her contorted mouth and the white of her eyes.

And as I heard his crusty boots crunch in
snow a bloody footprint as he exited the
wood, I felt a foreign doom engulf my sense
and a tug and pull of life on my innocence.

And as I stared into his misty, black marbles
I realized that pure beauty cannot exist here
with out insane, lawless horror and that God
himself is a being of extremes.