Soft wet asphalt,accompanied by foot step's echoes
A black path into the wilderness,a thick hairy mess
of grey corpses,Twisted and broken,they lay alone,listening
to the wind whisper as it weaves a blanket of cold upon us.
In the wooden Graveyard of the long departed.

Slowly he stares,at those remains with spite as
a Cadaverous figure in the shadows,remains slient,
Cradling his scythe.

Crit 4 crit.
Last edited by Deadmen at Feb 16, 2008,
man, this sounds like one of them intros to some hard rock song or something in kind of a whisper, it would be sweet for that lol...but great writing skills man
When The Power of Love overcomes the Love of Power, that is when the world will be at peace --Jimi Hendrix

The roads of hell are paved with good intentions