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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Horror/Scary · #1488645
A tale of the macabre
The cemetery, cold and gray,
There is where my family lay.
All were murdered, one by one,
By my dear and precious gun.
Their ears with blood began to shed
As each was dragged from his bed.
Their eyes I plucked with sharpened shears
For jewl’ry to adorn my ears.
No tears I had, nor ever will,
But only laughter, cold and shrill!
Not even the sins weighs on my mind,
For my family was unkind.
They lied and cheated, did their will,
Now my revenge is laughter still!
And as my thoughts begin to ring,
A hollow echo begins to sing.
And as I listen, held in fear,
That awful sound lands on my ear!
A hollow echo, loud and sure,
Nothing for this sound to cure,
Louder until the walls have heard
The singing of a dying bird.
I wither and fret, my skin grows pale.
It won’t be long till I set sail.
In the cemetery, cold and gray,
We all await the Judgment Day.
© Copyright 2008 D.F. Mackwood (blabberpen at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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