Dain (poem by me)

His skin looked paperwhite
I asked him his name
He said “Dain Blythe—
But you can call me Dain.”

He dressed like a butler
but I could tell he was a master
of phantoms and demons,
I sailed straight for disaster.

I asked him a question
“Are you flesh and bone?”
He picked up a blade
and sharpened it on whetstone.

I turned to flee
And felt him chasing me
Then I called out “Jesus Christ!”
He dropped his knife,
I said it again,
He vanished from sight.

Whenever the impure spirits saw him, they fell down before him and cried out, “You are the Son of God.” —Mark 3:11

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