Will-sweeper
The wind picks up in the October month.
With it rises the odd feeling,
Familiar it is, If you’re not believing.
With wind the streets it’s sweeping.
I can tell he won’t be long.
He who flies with wind, so eager.
With his broom he’ll swipe,
With his axe he’ll dice
The bond with will you hold tight.
Here he comes! It’s the Will-sweeper!
The Will-sweeper, October’s butcher!
In his wake
None is safe!
Years ago he was present
When our town’s numbers lessened.
One crazed man hopped off,
Then two followed off their loft,
Blood still covers the roads we walk.
All to remind us of those who lost.
The Will-sweeper, October’s butcher!
In his wake
None is safe!
He’s the one
Who last year had killed your son.
The poor child’s will he took,
With gun in hand he stood.
Pulled his finger to shoot.
Blood on carpet to remind us HE won.
Here he comes, this year again…
The Will-sweeper, October’s butcher.
In his wake
No one is safe.
Your will to live he’ll take.
Petra Dolovski