The Ghosts of Red Square

By: Arwyn Posted on: August 30, 2005

Bend low and lend an ear,
To the whispers that you hear
Of dark nights, and sanguine plights,
Filled with bone deep fear
The terror welling, never telling when
The blood mixed with mud appeared
Bursting forth in a scarlet course
Darkening violet, violent black
As it seeps from the source
Tracing over the blackened, seared
Cobbles witness to these scenes of gore
Bearing marks of the times before

A silent witness to the spectacle
While the people, jeering, heckle
Theoren, bade him never to relent
Not till the victim's life's been spent.
No mercy shown to their tear filled eyes,
No clemency granted to those despised.
Instead, they're bound with unrelenting wire,
Till on that final breath, they expire
Upon the stake, or the galllows
It makes no difference, as one knows
Death always ends these gristly shows

If these truths be too hard to bear,
Come with me, my child, and rest in here
Within this iron tome, the masoleum I call home
Upon such iron princples my comfort rests,
Nestled within my hallowed chest
No longer shall you have to listen to their jeers
So, hush now, be well, and dry your tears
Squirming only makes things worse
Within the embrace of the maiden's curse