Follow me to the clearing,
where the trees part in fear.
The Dead come to play,
and the La Santa Muerte rule.
Bring your sacrifices.
Your wishes will come true.
The female Grim Reaper is all-powerful.
The taste of blood can be sweet.
She will grant wishes of revenge
to your bitter heart’s content.
THE DEAD GAME
A casualty of war.
A casualty of nature.
Say a prayer for me.
Teeth glisten in the dark
as I walk through the park.
I stop in my tracks in fear,
not knowing what can be near.
I stand quietly and listen,
but I only see the glisten.
Soft footsteps ring out behind me.
I’m not waiting around to see.
Then I happen to glance down,
and my face droops in a frown.
The fanged smile floats on the lily pond.
Of my reflection, I’m not so fond.
It reveals the darkness inside
that I’ve always failed to hide.
Please wash away my sorrow and pain.
The ocean may take it far away,
Let the rain grow harder with its might,
My body grows cold from the rain.
I walk with the living at day,
They do not hear a word I say.
They believe I’m alive like them,
But I’m stronger than any men.
I run like the wind past the trees,
Fly through the sky faster than bees.
My true self is hidden away,
I might be a little fey.
At night I walk with others,
They’re close to me like brothers.
“Who am I?” you might ask.
I might take you to task.
Take care not to open that door,
You’ll be in hell forevermore.