A Wee Fire

A wee fire
A green fire
But what’s it’s burn
To a devlin spire?
I’ve got 17 geists
Afraid of my name
And oh the shine in their eyes
How they back away broken
When I toss them my token
They slink away slunken
Dull witted, shrunken
Back to the floorboards
Closed in the closet
Teeth in a jam jar
Stitch me a sad scar
Rip at the ridges
And pour me another
For all that you do to me
Tis all in yer mind
Blacken my vision
And find yourself blind
Surviving is what I do
It’s my job, we dead are true
And besides I have uses for you.


Author: Dark Dee

Yeah, I'm that Dark Dee.