Blood soaked shoes
With little white socks
Cold dead eyes
In bloody sockets rot

Chills and whispers
I can never forget
As the dead child's eyes
Watched with no regret

The young ones steps
Were ragged and slow
With each little movement
My eyes began to grow

Her snapping bones
And little sniggers
Kept be transfixed
As mist reviled more figures

And from the darkness
They did call
Like sirens ordering us
All to fall

Now in front of my eyes
Did I bare
Witness to the stench
Of the flesh in the air

Finally had I sought
To break myself free
But alas it was too late
And it would never be