Edgar's Ink

In homage to Mr Poe.... He dreamt a dream, a violent vignette a sorry scene, he could not forget He rose from his rest and bolted the bed, but the visions he'd viewed would not leave his head He set to scribbling those terrible thoughts, thinking that would be the release he sought He penned a poem of the saddest sorrow, a vivid volume of terrible tomorrows He wrote those words in an ink of tears, with a pen of pain, on a sheaf of fears He trusted those thoughts would salve his soul so he'd sleep soundly in his hole But when he woke again next night, his heart now had a fearful fright He saw in waking the very scene that'd in his sleep afore he'd seen As he looked on his horror grew and as he watched 'twas then he knew Now, in his room the dream did dwell; it truly held him in its spell This cursed vision of fear and fright now ruled his mind both day and night But then, he saw the candle burn and his fevered thoughts began to turn He took the pages that he did write and held them to the candlelight The words began to dance about and leapt from the page with a mournful shout The pages then burst into flames and ran round him chanting names 'Oh Lucifer, Beelzebub, Sammael and Belial' 'Baphomet, Mastema, Lilith and Azazel' The words whirled round and round his head as he lay quivering in his bed And as he watched, he came to see his own body floating free He began to spin at such a pace no longer did he know his place He'd spun so fast by this evil's throttle he turned to liquid and was quickly bottled And now he waits, he sits and thinks of when another will use that ink To write a poem of pity and pain, so he may yet be freed again