The tiring worker broke the hollowed ground.
The shadowy labor of fishing men back to the world wore even on the experienced fisher.
This tasked burdened this deceitful man in invisible ailments.
Cold and wet was the night as it shook the fragile bones and humanity of this hidden necromancer and his brothers in arms.
Though alas, the evil job has brought its subtle knife down on more then icy flesh.
The black work devilish warped their souls and minds, they were warped with every decent they made.
These darks descents of mud and rust move them to a twisted world by many names; Naraka, Nilfhelm, Tártorus, or simply Gehenna.
Stains and stigmata bore down on the weak mind of the resurrection man holding rusty iron and wood.
Fear grows freely in his mind like a rampant plague.
The flame of the church reared in his mind as a ghostly monastery loomed just out of view, behind him.
Such is the punishment for heretic men, who lash out on the weakest inquisitor bound near them and help the work that contradicts God.
Peaking ghosts watch the men, scattering at the first sight of the workers hard-won bounty.
Such a boastful bounty it is as well worthy of the greatest huntsman or tradesmen.
Corrupt greed or innocent necessity brings varying men to such dastardly vice.
Such is the secret life of the resurrection man.
I hope you enjoyed this it is a piece I did three years ago for a small class proses poem. It was inspired by Jerry Cruncher from A Tale of Two Cities, one of my favorite characters next to Sydney Carton
Come read and review, and check out my other works. This was posted before but I wanted to consolidate my works so I put it together with the other poem