The Beast Lament

————-Authors Note————-

Beware, for this poem did not emerge from the depths of my own nightmares. No, it draws inspiration from the film “Pumpkinhead,” a hidden gem of Southern Gothic charm. As Halloween approaches, I offer you this eerie piece that may give you pause before seeking revenge in the untamed wilderness.

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The Beast Lament

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In the ebon shroud of yore, I was told,

Of a path to fortune’s soul untold,

A creature ancient, twice as old,

Whispered tales from days of yore.

Summoned through blood and mirth’s embrace,

Tragedy befalls both word and hearth’s space,

The virtuous, from birth to somber chase,

These secrets whispered days of yore.

Sacrifice of firstborn, offspring dear,

Flesh paid dearly, one by one, in fear,

Wicked gore, the pact’s endear,

A gruesome oath sealed days of yore.

Bodies piled upon a macabre pyre,

Knives carving flesh with twisted ire,

Words distorted, laced with hellfire,

This chilling tale from days of yore.

A name this beast does not possess,

Its weakness, a puzzle to confess,

Corruption lingers, a dark caress,

From the whispers shared days of yore.

As you lie dying, its jaws doth yearn,

In the abyss, your fate doth churn,

Soon to be devoured, never to return,

A haunting prophecy from days of yore.