The Skull

The Skull is bathed in unbroken gloom

And in it many demons loom

Tortured souls of many dead

All who had been evil led

Alone in a room on a stone carved throne

Sits the Warlock Berilious Bone

Robed in white and hooded from view

A face that is seen by only a few

All that is not hidden from sight

Are those large red eyes that burn so bright

For of the underworld he is Lord

And he does not rule by axe or sword

Magic is the way he rules

Forgotten are all other tools

A thousand demons he does guide

None would ever leave his side

Slaves they are everyone

You would think he was the Devil’s son

Maybe he is you can never tell

But I wish he would fall back to Hell

The Skull

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