So . . . this one is actually mine. . . . I just got in the mood a while ago, figured I could get some feedback from you guys.
A quiet night,
Our story starts,
With not a light that flickers,
Nor a dog that barks.
Until you see
The fog has settled,
The moon eclipsed,
You begin to tremble.
The roads abandoned,
Till footsteps sound.
You're not alone
On this dreary ground.
A shadow cast over you,
Stifle a cry,
As the glint of the blade
Shines in your eye.
No one to help,
No one to hear
The blood-chilling screams
That surely ring clear.
The caress of the metal
Scratches your cheek,
And the drip of the blood
Makes your knees grow weak.
The moon breaking free
Illuminates the knife,
The blood on his hands,
And the end of your life.
A trip, a fall,
A rock to your skull,
Suddenly you're pressed tight
Against the crumbling stone wall.
A knee rests on your ribs,
Voice locked away.
There's nothing you can do,
Not even pray.
The bite of death,
It's teeth in your skin,
You won't talk or breathe,
Not ever again.
As the last few throbs
Of life leave your heart,
He gazes over you
Like a gruesome work of art.
He smiles then,
Almost with glee,
And leaves you there,
For all to see.
YOU ARE READING
The Cutters Lullaby, and Other Rhymes and Poems
PoetryA collection of writings that I've come across over time, whether by Wattpad, searched on the internet, told by friends, or by reading a friends writing.
