Two fires are set alight;
One Blue, One Red.
Blazing bright in the night,
the flames lick and leap,
from heap to heap, they just keep
dancing along the corridor of my demise.
The red gathers quickly in portent,
while the blue slowly grows with intent.
Like ticking time bombs,
they poise for the strike of the bell,
signaling twelve,
the beginning of all hell.
The red is easy and angry,
like peeling an onion.
The Blue is adamant and angsty,
turning time, the rhyming pinion.
It blocks with steel,
and strikes your Achilles heel.
Its dirty, and its nasty.
But its your fault,
it might have been made halt,
though that times long past,
and the demise is ticking fast.
Red only foreshadows,
to Blue's impending doom.
It's sure to crack glass and windows,
and sweep away the dirty like a broom.
Bristles will catch you,
blooming thistles grasp, and anchor fast too.
And send you plunging deep into,
the midnight fires impromptu.
Singing and Slashing,
Flinging and Bashing,
I'll find you,
and I know exactly what to do. |
Submission Name: Swirling Doom, on the dot Noon!
