Their Stories

Take a trip down memory lane
And explain all those things inside your head.
But first, let me tell you about mine.
Up late in the bleak of the night,
Dreamt of three ladies,
Going on about their stories,
About their lives in the struggle,
About the different things they had to juggle;
Hard knock lives if you ask me,
But most of all…the dark entities that they’ve seen.

In the dark corners of theirs mind
Bleak creatures took stand.
Fought against them and pinned them to the wall.
Now they scream restless in pain and agony,
Waiting for the chance to once again be unleashed.

Everything kept changing until the break of dawn
Where a fair rang away,
Enticing all the new fresh meat nearby,
Making me purchase a ticket for the ride.

We ended up on a basement that led to the swamp.
The ground, laced with small bodies lined across,
Shook and trembled to the slight of foot.
I couldn’t believe my eyes,
So many bodies being harvested through lies.

In those dark corners where their memories unwind
Their personalities and egos fled,
From being misled
By those creatures from the dead,
No, wait, that can’t be what they said.

I kept going through the tunnel of madness,
Through the limited scope of narrow mindedness
Till I reached the corpse of the bride.
It kept screaming of the way she died,
Murdered, dismantled like a jigsaw puzzle.
Looked at me dazed and confused, as if puzzled
With a desolate emptiness inside her gaze,
A portrait of the bodies cultivated for days.

 

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