“What is it you fear?”
He asked, “My dear sir…”
As he coiled his finger to the sky.
“Is it the Devil, or Me?”
He asked, with a nod,
as if affirming an “Aye.”
“Is it darkness? Death?”
He asked leaning in
As his eyes grew brighter and wide.
“Is it the manner of death?
He asked with a smirk.
“For to know, you’d need only confide.”
“I fear nothing!”
I cried, as I pushed him away.
“Not, you, not death nor the manner!”
“But here you have come,”
He stated appalled,
at my angry assertion and banter.
“I’m here for your blood,”
I stated quite plain.
“Yes, yours–for you’re nothing to fear.”
“You think you are brave,
But you’re simple—a fool whose feet should
have tread far from here.”
“You mistake me kind sir,”
He said with a hiss.
“Your head shall be mine, wait and see!”
“You’ve lost yours it’s plain,”
I said backing away.
“Your new one will not look like me!”
Away I did turn,
to draw on the beast
and slice him like servings of pie.
“I too shall draw sword,”
He cried as he wielded
And took his best swing, as did I.
“A fight to that death,
you so gleefully speak of!”
My voice cracked as I stumbled and fell.
“Though down on one knee,
I’ve no pity for thee,
And I’ll find you again once in Hell!”
“I’ll cover the hollow with blood!”
He did shout.
“I’ll carve you until you are dead!”
“I once trembled at you,
but now bid you adieu.”
I said as the beast took my head.