by Nick Gisburne
Unburdened by a meek, submissive mind -
The poison of her parents saw to that -
No prophecy could ever have defined
Her vision for the Sinister Sabbat.
From cinders, shaped at midnight into beasts,
Her coven sends a pestilence, a blight,
To kidnap squealing infants for its feasts,
To bleed, in filthy rituals, at night.
Compelled to add more bodies to the pile,
The witches bring creation to its knees,
Exchanging souls for silver, to defile
The world, in waves of darkness and disease.
She spits a final evil on this earth.
Her child, a king, a god, is blessed with birth.
