From within it I heard a scream.
There was little light but a beam.
Where the scene began to tear at the seam.
The sound of ripping flesh could be heard.
I spun around, my vision becoming blurred.
I strolled down the hall, completely allured.
My calles still remaining unanswered.
Walking down that path of dark,
On the ground I found a mark,
A single puddle of bright crimson there.
I continued to walk through the halls.
The emptiness echoing my questioning calls.
Was I alone? I thought not.
Entering a room,
I was suddenly consumed
By the chilling need to run.
I found a light and to my fright,
Dead corpses surrounded me.
Blood stained the walls around me,
The scent of metallic red surrounding,
Thickening the air with its potent stench.
A shriek filled the chilly air,
From my throat it erupted.
Move, flinch, and run I didn’t dare,
For fear of the corrupted.
Distorted and burned was their flesh.
Their empty eyes sewn shut.
They carried a sword, a knife, a blade
That they used for the final cut.
As they enclosed upon me,
A soft and final yelp was sounded.
No air to my lungs.
Warm wet syrup dripped from my neck.
In the distance,
I saw the end.
The seal of my fate.
Texte: Cheyenne Worsham
Lektorat: Microsoft Word
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 20.03.2013
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