Swallowed Soul

With an exhale of breath he reaches the top of hill,
below down the way is all those he could kill,
blood rivers down and combines like veins,
swirling into the dirt and floating remains,
soaking deep as sunrise peeks over the side,
the morning swallows the night with a slide,
quaking cracks shake the ground below,
opening up the hill and beginning to swallow,
light streams fade as shadows return,
down below the souls reach and burn,
smokes of rotten flesh sting his eyes,
but they remain open as he cries,
the last of the crust falls into the ground,
only a high pitched screaming heard sound,
suddenly it stops as light resumes its hold,
do not murder is why this story was told.