Down in the water where the dead men sing.
Where sinful men who do sinful things.
Down in the depths where the monsters rot.
Where broken men stir their pot.
Down below where the abyss screams.
Where bones lie atop dead dreams.
Down here, submerged by black.
Where you always prone to look back.
- Author: Noah ( Offline)
- Published: August 28th, 2017 06:46
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 18
Comments1
Dont worry, Domestos cleans right round the bend. Those nasty stains soon be gone! Your writing is dark and scarey here. People will shudder and quickly move along. I like it.
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.