by Nick Gisburne
Delirious, she seeks the shaman’s lair
To heal the lacerations on her neck
She staggers through the doorway in despair
Exhausted from a long and brutal trek
The wretched hovel, filled with scented smoke
Revives her with a mystical perfume
But terror slays her spirit with a stroke
The shaman, dead, dismembered, seals her doom
A scaly demon gorges on the meat
Another rips the muscle from a bone
They look upon her body, slender, sweet
Surprised to see her standing here, alone
They know her blood - the girl who ran away
But this time they are certain she will stay
