Naveed Akram (15 December 1973 / London, England)
It was also cold, still being wet,
When we began to lift what we said.
Still wandering in the woods
The creatures of the darkness spoke right.
A tight clothing and heavy boots
Lost me in thought, without friends.
In the woods was underneath a good,
The righteous folk became a shepherd's
Flock, as far as lands of the soul.
It was also cold, and always wet
When the windy weather whined
With digging sounds of swords
Leaping to the strength of scissors
Clashing behind the back
With forces of danger.
It was so cold that it was wet
And dank, dreary and deadly;
The one minute became a second
Forming deaths and folly
All within the look of creatures
Of the night, feeding on the flesh
Like ghouls that wept.
The strength of their hands
Felt the body within,
And the undead souls entwined.
Foolish creatures die
And then die and then die.
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