Poetry: His Awful Visage

He is coming
for me
The stygian rider
on his

hellish steed

whose nostrils
spit fire
he is coming
he is coming
for me.

Entrenched and
fortified
my heart trembles
seems resigned
to this reality
this inevitability
this clash of
overlords divided
mind and heart
contentious
and combative.

All
for sacred sanctity
questionable ties
their truth their way
an epic struggle
two worlds colliding
battling and
warring over their
precious notions
quintessential hostilities.

The earth rumbles
mud filled trench
thick with despair
stench of vomit
the rider approaches
axe wielded high
his awful visage
fixed on me
his terrifying shriek
he is here
he is here
for me.

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