Twisted Fury

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Twisted Fury

Hatred drips off every tongue
a vicious bile, spilled forth until
believed then spreads like spores of death,
intoxicated mould on breath.

The chatter chills and freezes hearts,
to kill, the only action left.
Pile high the blackthorn pyre,
light the damning fire.

Licking flames char flesh and bone,
souls ignite in screeching horror.
Ignore the brutal stench of ill,
swallow down the bitter pill.

Ashes mark the wicked skin
of those whose sin is darker still.
Blackened thorns of twisted fury
will be remembered here.

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Wendy Pratt

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