by Shannon Riley
THE PINES
by Shannon Riley
A long,
long trail winds through the pines,
and few return who follow.
A hundred eyes burn in the night,
a thousand fangs to rend and bite,
await in every hollow.
A
keening wind blows through the pines,
it sings a song of sorrow.
It cries, "You'll meet your fate tonight;
you'll never see the morning light.
The grave's your bed tomorrow.
A devil
child cast out of hell
has all the Piney's talking.
He feasts on flesh and tortured minds,
and gristly dreams are left behind
when Chabwok goes out walking.
A demon
dwells within us all,
in friend and foe and brother.
A long, long trail winds through the pines,
and twisted, tortured are the minds
embracing death as lover.
