The King of Ages
The cold river is
a memory
of horrors
coded by hateful hands
wrenching down
as goldenrod
lighting
sparks a warning.
Against
hope, fighting
against
the king of
ages.
Slate gray skies
taunt
tainted people,
will them
with coldness.
The stench of a
sweet
rain, is deceitful
immersed in dark deeds.
Hinted by
ghosts
silhouetted by
chilling ember.
Two paths collide,
The dust coming up in plumes
Not affected by the rain.
Evil, flinches
at the sight,
golden reflected by
superior motives.
Fear grips
the sky,
remembers
the
bloodred image.
BR This is just a poem I based of Avalon High, during the scene where Elane is running through the storm.
Please Review! BR