PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

A flint knife,

takes your life;

on top of the pyramid of the sun,

blood is shed

your still beating heart carved

out of your chest;

the high priestess consuming it

in honor of the gods

And many more shall follow this poor lads fate;

bodies shall pile up like dirt caking the ground in blood

and no amout of water will ever be enough to cleanse this

accursted state.