• Clack Clack
    The hoods are back
    Downpour of heavy rain wipes the filthy land clean
    Grime spat into the sewers
    Hooded demons lay in wait
    Grinning teeth entice the invisible hand of god
    Awaiting their roman fate
    Her heavy nightgown blows open the feeble glass doors
    Her young strong fingers escape almost hiding her earthly years
    The fingers point into the feeble mass
    How could they escape they wondered
    As the human lives blundered
    Which shall it be today?