Guardians Of Atlanta 57
(Finish What We Started)
Dark lay that hidden room
Deep in an unknown place.
Cold lay the air so still
Within that haunted space.
Thirteen figures barely visible
In light levels nearing pitch
Stood around a near-lifeless body
Which had no will to resist.
Chanting, their deep throats a-rattle
Buzzing ‘neath their crimson cloaks
Courting spirits thrice defiled
In that hall of death and smoke.
Finally the chanting ceased
And waited they with baited breath,
But still the body gave no shudder,
And remained in pseudo-death.
“What the devil is going on?!?”
Rang a voice from being the dark,
And industrial lights activated in that room
With a bright and blinding spark.
Hi I’m Joshua, and I’m resurrecting Epic Poetry for modern nerds like you! Come join me at JoshuaDavidLing.com or just about anywhere on social media!
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