HorrorScope

Pale freckles on the palms,
The safety of the lines,
Oh, the nerves that it calms,
of the uncalibrated fancy fiction future.
Men with bearded forests and rooty
hair,
flying birds smaller than the drops of
their holy lies in the brimming grail.
Come! Oh, Come!
Come buy your future on sale!!
You do not realize,
it's the foot of Lucifer upon which you
hail.
Your tale is not the tail,
of your destiny's destination.
Its the way that you deal with your
life's complications.
They are ready to mar,
till your destiny bleeds as black as tar.
Its a hypnotic lore,
to lure you to listen to more
of their make-believe trouble,
till you are reduced to ashes and
rubble.
A broken man with broken fate,
A naive maiden used as bait.
We're fishes of a fishing pond,
bound to fishermen's mercy bond.
Façade crusaders of a past that haunts.
The vices provoke the voice's taunts.
Trapped in the middle of ocean,
in a thermocol box of icey emotions.