Necromancer

Stand by the grave as the dead whisper softly,
Open up and answer their call,
Catch myself as the power rushes out,
Pull myself back from edge, not so far to fall.
Unleash my power and push it through the ground,
Feel the night grow restless with magic so warm,
The wind blows my hair as the energy spills out,
Raising the dead, a psychic storm.
Feel the ground move beneath me,
Feel the corpse stir in it's grave,
Rise to the top as a swimmer that's drowning,
The earth giving it up as a necromancer's slave.
My child comes from the grave and looks around dully,
Needing blood to be born again,
Take a chicken and spill the blood,
Watch it feed from the vein.
Watch the intelligence flood the eyes,
The memories rush back,
See the pain fill the mind as they release they died,
Watch the emotional attack.
Call the name and see the attention snap to me,
See the obedience waiting for me to speak,
So easy to command, either for help
Or for havoc to wreak.
Order it to stay and step away from the grave,
Its eyes follow me as I walk the cemetery again,
Feel the magic pull between us as master and slave,
With every step I feel it grow and strain.
This feeling of elation as I channel so much magic,
My abilities alive in the whisper of night,
Raising the dead to live again in the world of the living,
This power feels so terribly right.
Walk to the next grave, get more fresh blood,
The power riding through me, intoxicating, banishing all thought,
Continue making my children,
Until this power finishes its onslaught.

© Copyright of Holly Nia Goodson