Horror Poem by William Death
Horror
Alone in cobwebs and dusty bookshelves,
My mental state of dwelling,
Sanity decays like plaster, I hear the voices yelling
Like a thunderbolt of lightning in a quiet cemetery
My split identity crisis forms a sprite
Shovelling a ditch, my obituary etched by invisible hands
Possession of my soul, I've lost control awhile ago
Press the knife against my throat like a goat in the hexagram
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
8/25/2026 3:47:28 AM # rel_20260813T193622Z_3aad590
