" The Darklings "
In a quiet little town
beyond the cobblestone streets
where trees whisper the only sound
is the place where the Darklings meet
the Darklings dance in circles round
fire hot red bright and orange
their bare feet beat the muddy ground
while their familiars hunt and forage
adorned only in what they've found
patches of skin covered in leaves
and grass entwined in the brown
of their unruly hair weaves
sticks and mosses create a crown
tonight they are the queens of freaks
Darklings, they cry, the echoes abound
bouncing off the rocks and the trees
In a quiet little town
though the hour is black and late
the people pace and shiver
the Darklings, the fear, keeps them awake.
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3 comments:
witches are kinda close to zombies.
It's like Shankhill Butcher meets the Salem witch trials! Three cheers for pagan revelry, and especially for familiars. I also like how the townsfolk are all fearful, in spite of the fact that the Darklings sounds like they're doing what is done at most outdoor college parties when the weather's nice.
Kudos on once again crafting a non-contrived rhyme scheme, and holy crap you found a near-rhyme for 'orange'!
I'm trying to pick something out for constructive criticism, but I can't really find anything.
sounds like fairies to me. I demand Zombies. ROME demands zombies.
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