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Submitted on
February 11, 2012
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Creative Commons License
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Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 License.
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I feel cold creeping hands,
Dragging me down,
Into the fires of the underground.
All I hear is the screeching sound,
Of heroes wearing funeral frowns.

I feel warm probing fingers,
Across my skin,
And my, how they seem to linger.
I'm petrified of this demonic danger,
Of seraphim pretending to sin

I feel hot sweating palms,
Touching my face,
Brushing across lips as I stay calm.
Now I fear they'll sense my alarm,
Of angels insulting grace.
Man, am I getting tired. Right here's a dark poem.

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:icona7xfan666:
Nicely written:D
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:iconbrici5:
Brici5 Feb 12, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
very good poem
and a great, dark atmosphere surrounding it ;)
Reply
:iconcaxe:
CaXe Feb 11, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
Ooooooh this is scary... I like scary! mmm nice!
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