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A Poem by Emily Shade

A strange specter in the grave
Forever despises;
You may have hated him, did you not,
His anger forever is.

The mist kills as with a knife,
A decayed bone is seen;
And then it ceases at your feet
And dies forever.

He destroys a decayed land,
A grave too cruel for wraiths.
Yet when a specter, and gargantuan,
Despises more than once, at midnight,

Having slithered, I heard, a dagger
Crumbling in the darkness, -
When, scrabbling to crush it,
It died, and was gone.

The many of the grave's wraiths
I destroy, and they destroy me;
I feel for them a tempest
Of loathing;

But never sought this soul,
Attended or alone,
Without an evil searching,
And despair at the heart.


("Emily Shade" is a program that generates poetry using structures from the works of Emily Dickenson and words from the works of H.P. Lovecraft.)