Various versions of night <br />Are now wielding twisting diabolical deeds <br />Of good. Our heroes are plucked <br />From their perch, ripped away from us. <br />Light has depleted, mostly faded, <br />And even the shadows own shadows. <br />I covet mercy. Is there none? <br />Wicked in rust, withered faintly from murderous use. <br />Fear, hate guileful blades <br />Shed in gloom our stride. <br />Taken aback we beckon to a dying hope. <br />Our simple flesh is left to cower <br />In the path of the saber of our foe, <br />The long claw of silver grim.<br /><br />Andy Purdy the Graven<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/long-claw-of-silver-grim/
