stir from the deepest slumber
the dank, cold forest bed
autumn’s decay beneath her
fills her soul with dread
get up! an inner voice does whisper
chill trilling down the spine
limbs contrive to shift her
despite opposing whine
hands outstretch to guide blind eyes
a peculiar noise resounds
desperation in her cries
feet amble on damp grounds
the atmosphere transforms
to six-below the ground
screams buried by the storm
her corpse might not be found
now standing in an entry
a partial open door
stride past a horrid sentry
reveal a wretched gore
want nothing but contentment
and delusions of delight
feel nothing but resentment
from this fantasy of fright
hallucinations changing
never show the sun
desperation ranging
the nightmare just begun
