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A pale roux of dead stares with eyes bloodshot red,
Masticating bile as it seeps through jagged teeth,
And while the vile smile fills my head with dread,
Lips and cheeks are splayed and flayed underneath.
I hear my own cries like ice cold needles in my skin,
Tiny shards of glass I gargle through my esophagus,
With deformed fingers split at the nail I begin to grin,
As they throw me into the most unholy sarcophagus.
Twisted and contorted my spirit also feels distorted,
My body is alive but the maggots donít seem to mind,
Those bloodshot eyes seem to have been transported,
Gawking at me if they are mocking me for all of time.
As I lay there cocooned and surrounded my vermin,
I hear ghostly echoes of decomposed cryptic chants,
And with the stench of decay I feel Iím also turniní,
Becoming like one of them as I get eaten by ants.
Then I realize those eyes are mine! Itís my reflection,
Like the nightmare I canít wake up from every so often,
The pain I thought was surreal I feel with perfection,
Beaten to a pulp with worms I squirm inside this coffin.
Written by wallyroo92
Author's Note
For the Pale Roux comp.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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