Time flies by,as the thunder rolls
Clouds turn black, as the storm turns cold.
The wind whispers future
but the words chill my soul
for what the future holds for me
is not a story to be told.
A chill carries silence, an eerie prescence hidden by mist
A prolonged death, traces washed away by the flood.
Night creeps on, hiding the sun, A new day no longer coming for one of the newly succombed.
Lightening illuminates their shadow, then it fades into the abyss. A silent murder to be whispered among the rest.
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A Silent Murder
Posted 10 months ago
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