Death walks these long darkened halls,

In a midnight black cloak,

Hollowed eyes and yellowed skin,

Sharpened fangs dripping blood,

Always wears that ghastly grin,

Perverse delight in torture,

Walking with a halting limp,

No hurry to take its victim,

He glides through closed doors,

Into rooms with air thick with disease and pain,

And to the side of a bed he lingers,

Inflicting unrestrained dread from the occupant,

A poor child or an old woman,

Hopelessly feeble in bed,

They wait in terror for Death’s clammy hand,

To grasp their beating heart,

Stifled screams of terror,

Death takes his blade in hand,

And escorts them from their bodies,

They hear frantic cries and screams,

From their left behind allies,

As they walk down the darkened corridor

Doomed never to see the light of day,

Or take care of knots left frayed and weak,

Death is impatient and cruel,

You must be ready to take his ashen hand,

To be pulled into his blackness,

His kingdom of eternal night,

Or be a ghost wandering the earth,

Incapable of touch and human contact,

Invoking terror in those who once loved you,

Playing small tricks upon the living,

Trying to satisfy that hunger for a friend,

Forever waiting, waiting,

Waiting for death to roam a darkened hall,

Waiting for him to take an unwilling victim,

Waiting for him to leave the struggling spirit behind,

Waiting for the company which you have so longed for,

Doomed to eternal sorrow and regret.

(oO; Personally, I’ve surprised myself… I didn’t know I could write something this dark. Ah well, R&R please, I love reviews!)