Luke A, Fink

Blood of the Kindred






The kindred we all see
Cursed from beyond the seas
The banshees yet to wail
Driving us to our hell.
If not for what reasons we live
Then to give and again give
Dire mornings upon gray waves
The last of a family's day
Hear the sounds of agony
As we go insane
Hear the wailing of the banshees
The nights with no name.
Darkness descends upon the child
Never in his dreams so wild
Fear now has left him
In his dreariness the kindred denounce him.

© Poetry.com