The Box is quiet
The Box is still
The Box awaits a victim on the antique shop window sill
The Box is powerful
The Box is dark
The Box will overwhelm you, destroy you, be careful
This is no Box of Delights
Nor Pandora's gift from Zeus
This box will consume your being, your soul it will abuse
To resist temptation you must walk on by
But the weak will be drawn to its knowing eye
The Box is quiet
The Box is still
The Box is coming for you, open it and blood will spill.
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Busy mummy who loves to read to my children. Will write about anything
The crimson trail disappeared into the night It had left a trail of destruction, anguish and rage It came from nowhere, and had now disappeared from sight I sat in the graveyard looking at the the...
He thought that it had left him, he thought that it had gone. He thought he'd beaten the demon inside. He'd thought, but then he'd thought wrong, You're mine, you fool, I own you.
Death and destruction Is what I crave, To hear thou mortals Scream in pain. Let thy flame burn Their flesh. Let the rats Nibble on their guts. Yells of cursing Out my name.
My flesh will flee, My bones will bleach, My fangs will cut, My mouth will leech. Your heart will slow, Your breath will stop, Your limbs will freeze, Your chest will drop.
And the little girl whistled a tune Ancient in it's delicate tonal beauty, New possibilities seeming to sing themselves To me, as she held my wrinkled hand And, slowly led me up a winding hill,...
They're like the hounds of hell, Relentless on your trail, Smelling your fear and hate, Feeds the space where there should be a soul.
Hello again, today is Saturday, December 1, 2012. I'd like to share another poem with y'all, so here it is.
Who woulda thunk it. That she'll be the innocent bystander foolish enough to stand in the way. And you being a train charging down a thousand miles and hour.
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