The Era Poem by Shyn Joseph

The era of the dark is goin to come.
There, the darkest insects and the worst worms
Creep out from the murky span of the ancient crypt
That we had neither seen, nor going to.

Only the dirge and the mild sound
Of the concealed bawls will puff into our ears.
Hang back, the time is on its way, to make sure
Only the evil remain, and it remains profound.

The relics still makes me wonder,
About the place being hidden?
Searching for one to make myself reveal!
Silent mysterious haze still holds me in.

Departing the goods to make me breathing
Through these stained peels
Desperate; I would be
Holding my last breathe to avail my freedom.

The freedom to live; the freedom to love.