The Devil'sroll Call Poem by PHIL WINTER

From the bowels of darkness
Emerges this devil
Like a lingering tree
Of stunted growth
Cut off from its source
But would not die.

Sleep walking in the night
It seeks a prey
Devours it hungrily, angrily.
Revenge is the mission
Of its soul
Wickedness, the essence
Of its heart.

In its path it moves
Spewing malice
unknown to human understanding
And intellectual prowess.

Should it slip within your dream
And call upon your name
Let it be a roll call
Left unheeded, unanswered,
Never heard.