Latin: /'vɒks pɒpjʉliː/ VOICE OF THE PEOPLE

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Sunday, January 30, 2011

The Nightmare by A Hess

A thousand doors
In a pitch black forest
Not a sound
As I lay my soul to rest

Between the leaves
No stars do shine
Only a moon
In the dark sky decline

A figure in the night
Comes to my hollow bones
A hooded man
Come to take me home

A presence like ice
With hands of claws
A clatter I hear
Of boney jaws

He tries to touch
With a skeleton hand
I shuffle back
And try to stand

This thing
In a sihouette of black
It's him
My nightmare - Jack.

1 comment:

  1. A very dark and atmospheric view of death, well done!