Vanessa Mendal

Riders of the darkness
Ghosts of the night,
The shattering of glass,
Escalading into more pieces every touch
Clattering to the ground,
Warning had occurred.

The growling of horses,
Whispers into the cold, midnight times
Evil comes on its own horse,
With the whit of a scholar,
Gloves of a knight,
Standing side by his companion,
Ready for a fight

The moon is nowhere to be seen,
But the fight is still on,
War and rage come before it,
Before Evil wins at its hand
It grasps the god of the underground,
Cruel as a beast,
Doesn’t think before he acts,
And swipes the first mans head with a knife.

Triumph fills the brutal wind,
And the blood that the warrior contained,
It was more than a battle,
More than any gain
It was inhumane,
Animal like,

Destiny to the glowering stars,
The glare of the crisp autumn leaves.
The crunches of the gravel below
Nothing could be saved from Evil,
Nothing could be saved at all.