Literature
Dead Men Lie
It's been two days since I removed your head
Yet still, you speak to me.
I hear you whisper my name,
it slithers through your lips glistening with corruption,
like a newborn babe swaddled in slime.
I shiver as I hear the syllables
slipping, tripping over your dead tongue.
Ever the linguist, even now you torture me,
but you must see
your head is mine, my trophy.
I spent endless hours exacting my revenge,
eventually I grew tired as you grew cold,
and hewed your betraying head from your liars neck.
So, shut your foul rotting lips!
No longer do I wish to hear their lies
Be still, your slug-like tongue!
So