Riding upon the mighty stallion
Comes the dark lord.
To many he brought some dread
With the wrath of his sharp sword.
The halo around his head
Lighted up his horns
The peace on his face
wrinkled his eyes forlorn.
‘Tis not the ghouls that he befriended
that coronate the dark lord.
His evils aren’t his mistakes.
He need not forgive the ghosts aboard.
The choices he gives,
mistaken for temptation.
Betray thine cowardice to excel,
gore through the fog towards illumination.
The saint in white will be worshipped
rarely out of love,
‘Tis the fright of the dark lord,
pushing the dark below and the light above.
The terror of the dark
and the comfort of the light,
makes the fool see
mere black and white.
By only the lost and the messed
will the gray be seen.
Both are stealthy allies.
For the victims, as enemies they feign.
The moon darkens the sun
overwhelming the shine.
The solar halo crowns Luna
through the eclipse benign.