Raindrops fall like bullets in silent waves
Slamming into the ground over and over again
Holes decay the floor and ruin the earths hollow surface
And graves ride up from the ground below the darkest depths of the nine realms filled with ash and dying embers
A breeze of charcoal blackens open wounds in a layer of void, stinging and burning the still bleeding gashes that remain upon the skins surface
YOU ARE READING
The Song Of Rose And Ash
Horrordark poetry and writings based on fiction and my own experiences.
