Sibling Rivalry

Two hundred sixty-five down, one more to go
Before the final stage curtain drops upon on the show
The Prophecies of old are soon to be fullfilled
A vacant throne never again to be filled

The Body of Christ, decapitated
Blindly stumbles as if the walking undead
Grasping wildly for hands, in need of being led
Arms flailing, in search of its human head

Lost is equilibrium
Stolen, the momentum
The hour swiftly approaching
Inevitable change to come

That's when the Daughter of Mary
Steps forth from the cheering crowd
Unsheathing her sword
Without a word spoke aloud
Gripping the hilt of her blade tight
With all of her might
And before her Sisters and God
In the broad of daylight
Deals the deathblow

Blood
Splattering across the snow

Screams
Wizards scrambling in hopes of capturing
Fleeting drops of the red wine in a golden chalice
Sorcerers cower, noses to the dirt in every earthly palace
Angels trumpeting, no longer sing
Choking on the vomit of their own malice

The Maiden continues without remorse
Determined, relentlessly
With brutal rage, violent force
Hacking away at each limb and knee

Leaving nothing to the Body of Christ
Leftover in the slaughter
Exit the stage, Son of God
Now, enter his only Daughter!