Poetry Unraveled

Cherry Curtain

Atmosphere stained cherry.
Walls dripping with decay.
Halls covered in a midnight ebony sheet..
Inky masses appear before your eyes and speak in parrokeet voices.
Hushed monotones.
Not understood by those living in a transparent sheath of life.
Spirits who found themselves saddled in a untimely demise served to them by the matrodee of death.
They reach out to you in desperation seeking to find their path to the freedom that awaits them.
The Twilight zone.
A tiger in a iron barred crate.
Unable to unleash every bit of energy that they once contained before the icy pain of the Reaper's scythe stole their heartbeat.
Sinking back into the abyss of abandonment, they lose hope that someone...anyone will ever release them from their suffocating binds.
Though the last memory that life held remains.
Stained with the blood, drained of their once inhabited body.
Like a theater finishing its' act.
The cherry curtain closes its' embrace.