these restless dead

So I never usually write morbid poetry. Or even poetry. But one morning I decided I would, so here it is.

they come in droves, these restless dead

our blood is black, our teeth are red

'twixt ghosts above and shades below

we cannot sleep, we will not go

and all around they rise from dust

escape grows near, we know we must

they tear the veil, they claim their prize

sinew, muscle, mouth and eyes


but as day begins and light is shed

we tore, we bit, we fought, we fled

when rock and stone and hellfire rumble

as suit of flesh and weak joint crumble

their body lost in waters deep

we cannot go, we will not sleep

and life returns, this day is bless'd

renew our strength, leave them to rest

The End

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