I had a dream.

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
Bildmaterialien: Google
Lektorat: Microsoft Word
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 20.03.2013

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