Terse, a Reason

Each morning, a birth
from the aphotic nothing
Into a tenebrous mirth

Where the weight of caring
For  some oft forgot pet
Means quick expiring

This is the new tenet
We worship; our religion
Adherence to G-d unmet

This Dark institution
Reverence for the depths;
Wine fueled absolution

We Imbibe of our guest
Eat the flesh; bread not bone
And rise again from the crypt

From the tomb, a throne
We feast upon the corpse
To prick our hands on thorns


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