The Guardian
By: Chad Applebaum
W
ith magic drops of lightning,
A child is born,
With the breath of thunder
And a devil's soul sworn
To this cloud of thunder,
That is rumbling in his heart.
Forever more will his mouth
Speak troubles
That he was cursed with at birth.
Ariolus will be his name!
For the wings on his back
Shall carry this angel child
To God's pearly gates
And beyond the depths of hell
To face his only brother,
Death....