I will not be forgotten,
As those of drifting dust.
Bones resting within their crypts,
Beneath layers of peace unending.
This will not be how I go,
Words to be forgotten upon new fallen snow.
I call upon my darkest parts,
And touch these names of stone.
In deepest graves so carefully laid,
With Fire your rage will grow.
Break this the bonds of sleep full rest,
Lay open throats so gently closed.
Up you get upon broken feet,
Strap on the tatters of mortality.
Harrow the ground so sweetly sewn,
And blight each growing thing.
A living canker upon this green,
Harrow each living scene.
With my berserkers from darkest realms,
I will bring down this world.
Michael is a husband, father, writer, poet, and aspiring author. He finds time to scribble down his thoughts in the dead of night, between ghosts and night owls. If you’d like to read more of his poetry follow the link here. Or to visit his full blog, ‘The Ink Owl’ click here.
If you’d like to read more darker writings from the Ink Owl follow the link and enjoy!