The People of the Black Moon

The People of the Black Moon walk in the shade, 
They pass you by — like all of your days. 
You’re not one of their circle, don’t call, don’t wait — 
Their deeds are a web on the map of fate.

Their acts are like dirt, their words — like lead, 
Their smile — a bite, their thanks — like dread. 
It will never be enough for their greedy hearts, 
Your daughter, your fear, your pain — their parts.

They deem themselves chosen, the first of the land, 
Their hand won’t tremble to strike where you stand — 
For the right to appear in their heaven’s hue, 
They’ll offer your life to the God of the Cruel.

Behind masks of the law, nameless they hide, 
Their temples are dens where the darkness resides. 
Their eyes are black pits that aim and ensnare, 
Selling death just to breathe their prayer.

They were brought here to tear and to smite, 
You’re their target — too late for flight. 
The People of the Black Moon — take this to heart: 
Don’t seek to understand. Don’t try to take part.