Sometimes the Light is Scarier than the Dark

Can you see them roaming through the prairie?
The living dead feasting on our flesh.

Monsters devouring the shadow with their burning limbs. Nothing,nowhere left to hide from the looming vultures,eyeing us as glimmering treasure. Ready to be dug from our mortal shells.

The final places undisturbed, the haunted caves and ancient woods. The last sanctuaries, where even gods don’t dare to venture. Halls of rotting wood and of deep, of buried stone.

Where days don’t seem to end and dreary night is always present. Where I sharpen my last defences, the breaking knives, my fingers cling to.
Just a sinner willing to give in.

Emerald gems lining ceilings, hills and valleys carved by crimson creeks and faithless tears. Every move, creeping through the endless void. Eyeing the leviathans scorching the rotten earth for a trace of my sorry soul.

Arms turned pale and legs bruised, scarred to where no color left to see. Sickly I march through the veil of onyx dark and searing light, in search of bodies I called friends. Cloaked in all consuming night, hunting, stalking. I can never let my tortured soul go rest.

For the demons, they learned how to cower, they learned how to bow when I make my rounds. Nails fashioned into razor blades, sharper than my rusting knives. Skin white, tainted by the silver moon, my patron as I rush through and claim the victims. Fallen prey to greater good, for safety of my mind.

So I can one day return into the light. When eternal monsters slain by virtuous hands, returned to wicked hells.

Days passing, turning to eternity. Tasting of forbidden fruit to my glorious cause. Ashen trees, they turn their crowns, they bow before my incredible might.

The destined time has come, victory ripe for the taking. So I stepped, once more, one final time, into the light. Blistering sun welcoming, old friend, with open arms.

Nefarious monsters spread my name, the demon crawling in the impenetrable dark. Perplexed I listen to them chant, a hymn, they scream my new name. But not in pain, but not in vain.

Dirty streams of wretched ink, painting barren lands in lasting shadows. Their chants swell to piercing crescendo as I tear through their flesh, as they did to the ones I loved. Till their voices turn to fear. Fear for their worthless lives. An aura all consuming, life and death becoming one.

I spy, a figure, in the distance, ducking into the shadows I had left in my wake. A final survivor? I now pray, to the fiery sun, to burn the dark, their last shelter. Weakling, hiding in the haunted caves and ancient woods.

I am afraid, so I stick to the light, for I have left my knives in place I used to call home. Will they come for my abhorrent throne?

Now I roam in search, to quell the fear. To banish dark. The vultures eyeing my destruction, new friends, a new member in their midst.