Prick thine thumbs and make thee bleed,
Sit upon stone and twine each reed.
Crieth out in deepest regret,
Feel the coffers unto death.
Dust each foot till shine doth dull,
Cast out shades upon thine foe.
Mark a branch with scarlet bright,
Murmer murder with delight.
Sing upon a moonless night,
For soon it will be all Hallow’s Twilight.
This is the Sinister Countdown. If you liked this descent into madness be sure to like and follow this month’s macabre passage. These stories, words, and poems come from the darker recesses of the mind behind the InkOwl. If you’d like to read past Sinister Countdown posts, follow the link below.