Lady of the Flies

by Michael Jon Turnbull

he
met the devil's
sister
began the courtship
of lies

stood beside
swollen hand signed
with the ink
of her black soul

waste blood
been spent
years past
she marked him

face carved
hair whitened
hands scarred
carefully placed

unknown
he became
that which she
had sought

now distorted
wretching
bile bathed
living dead

in a box
walls transparent
carrion writhing
maggott infected

vultures peer
awaiting deaths
completion
beautifully blooming

while eyless bastards
beelzebubs
children
feed on decay.

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