We watched as it burned.
We sat, and we yearned.
Could this be the light?
The end of the fight?
Devoid of blood.
To cease the flood.
The dark of the night.
The shadows might.
The illuminating light.
Ringing the bell, the sight of hell.
Upon the horizon, a hooded figure, filled with vigor.
Clad in blood and dirt, demonic symbols upon thy shirt.
Could it be? Much like the sea.
Swaying ever so gently, then crashing quite dire.
The end is just the beginning.
Only Hellfire.
