Like a trickle of sweat running down your back,
Like a fickle breeze at morning light,
The icy hands that pull you down,
Or the tempting glare of a bullet round.
Even in the brightest room,
Dark will therein lurk,
To come upon you when your asleep,
And grip you in an embrace so tight.
You feel as though your drowning,
In what you do not know,
All you see is pain and fear,
But then all that is gone.
Harrowing peace,
And killing silence,
Is all that fills you then,
And in your very last breath you take,
All the world is dead.
YOU ARE READING
Poems and short stories
RandomThese are short poems and stories I wrote. If you have a suggestion message me. It is rated mature for some graphic violence. I will put a warning at the top of the ones that have violence so you won't have to read those ones if it bothers you.
