ghost stories
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Phosphorescent light Forbidden state of matter, Glowing in the night Among the growing chatter, Of demonic voices Heard through whispers tones, Slowly getting louder In this possessed zone, A place where death dwells in misery. A place where evil greets me Somewhere in a nightmare state And my reality. Contorted gurning faces, Wretched twisted souls,
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I looked in to the eyes of evil And saw them staring back at me, It heard me breathe I saw it seethe, With bad intentions And cold menace, Brutal features, gnashing teeth Looking now to come for me, In legions of demonic spawn These are things that are malformed, Craving murder and dismemberment And
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Hush the voice said in my head You are but the walking dead That lives an illusion of being alive An illusion mistaken and so contrived You only come to life at night You do not possess any foresight And precious little hindsight For in this moment that you exist You are merely a ghost
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She saw things others didn’t, She saw things that were hidden, From the view of normal folk, As a medium she conveyed the voice If any spirit that needed to speak, Let itself be known to her, This gift sometimes seemed like a curse But all the same she uttered their words, So they had
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I can’t help but wonder What it is that is under, Your alchemy Your spellbound curse, That causes you to hurt men Whenever they get close. You ravage their heart and soul, You consume them And then just leave a hole, Your beauty is only matched By your savagery, As you perform open heart surgery,
fauxcroft 