The Red Man Behind The Mask: A Poem

The Red Man Behind the Mask

The red man wears his mask
Lurking behind is a corpse
Devouring souls he’s a moving morgue
To end my life is his task

His mask is only imitation
It’s meant to draw me close
Even though I know he’s a ghost
He knows my lust by reputation

Reputation and repetition are his gifts
His mask it is oh so beautiful
I pray my heart finds it refutable
Or he’ll throw my soul over the cliffs

I desire his mask of sin
But I am what they fight for
O God free my feeble soul before
I’m devoured by the man with crimson skin

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