8 May 2012
Galloping nervously down the forgotten path, The knights and their steed readied themselves for the wrath, Of the demon that guarded the cliff path ahead, The one that planned for mankind to be dead.
As they drew up close they gagged at the stench, And fell off their steeds before they staggered to the bench. That, in hindsight was their fatal mistake, As, being tired and feeling safe, neither could stay awake.
When they awoke it was even more smelly, For both had arrived in this demon's large belly. They paced around to figure a way out, But they were far from civilisation, no one would hear them shout.
Their environment was one that both of them detested, For with bacteria and fungi, the beast's stomach was infected. You may have thought that a human would be hard to digest, But those knights lasted but an hour at best.
Through the gut they both travelled, although no longer whole, Out the other end and began to fall. They hit the ground in the warmth, it was sticky and hot, This is the end of my poem that is lovely, not.
Lovely Not • Opuss № I