As the noise turns to static,
And colors fade to gray,
From the monsters in the attic
We no longer shy away.
When everything begins to end
We all start to die;
As up rise the restless dead,
Horror is the final cry.
Blood gushes from veins
The end is near.
As the shock now wanes,
We fill with fear.
There is no more earth, no life,
As it all ends with an eclipse.
With no more joy, or strife,
This is the apocalypse.
YOU ARE READING
My poetry
PoetryThis is a book with various poems, with various degrees of awful-ness. I'd love to hear what you guys think, please tell me how I could improve!
