By Shrouded Cover


So they came
dark talons through flesh and flame
burnt crosses, red and stained
with piano keys ringing and the distant siren sang

We lie in wait
to say the least
for a hint of sound, or the thought of peace
wishful hands clutch fearful ones
and the thought of death haunts all, not some
don’t speak or sneeze, not a peep, don’t breath

Inch by inch, scratch on the boards
heavy handed knocks followed by bloodthirsty roars
it ends tonight
the carless giggles and playful fights

Her lips against my skin
my skin against her lips
a tingle, a touch, her eyes then slipped
and the warmth disappeared, like the life from her eyes
as she laid back and slowly began to die

These hooves of grim ridden stags
the stench of rot and filth soild rags
and the dark talons above, leaving me to live last
before a swift strike, the last moment before life had past

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.