Daemon Diaries - The Battle (pt3)

A brutal clash,
a dark storm of hate.
Two enraged combatants,
Fighting for fate.

Freedom from this plane,
To where they should be.
Never earning a name,
Never an eternity of shame.

For this is war,
The battle of attrition.
Only one shall pass,
Beaten to submission.

Our entity so fresh,
Only three souls old.
The other a “vet”,
A champion it’s told.

The loser inshackled,
A harvester of souls.
In this plane of eternity,
No transition unfolds.

A second chance,
Placed amung the dead.
Finally, peacefully put to rest,
Choosing passing instead.

A charge and a shriek,
A flurry of self righteous hate.
Our entity throttled back,
Into darkness, it suffocates.

Imprints of fear,
Fall all around.
An offensive weapon,
It screams so loud.

Unable to retaliate,
A life of servitude amassed.
To reign over the living,
Collecting souls to surpass.

This endless pain of fear,
When will it stop?
The other entitty still beating,
Making certain of the drop.

The “vet” screeching,
A victorious cry!
Breaking all new levels,
Of pain inside.

An opening appears,
As a small glow.
Wrapping around the “vet”,
Like in a spiders roll.

A flash of light, total silence,
No more pain, into absolute dark.
To be the collector of souls,
Our entity enbarks.

A repeditive voice,
To harsh to dismiss.
A name for him,
From the black Abyss.

A name that enslaves,
For eternity of service.
To all other demons,
It’s known as “Grimace.”

Daemon Diaries - The Battle (pt3)


Smithers, Canada

  • Artist


dark demon poem

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