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The Roach and the Rat

Poetry By: Mr Watson
Horror



A little bit more horror, not too dark I hope.


Submitted:Jun 4, 2014    Reads: 24    Comments: 5    Likes: 3   


Manacled to the wall

No bread to be fed

I'm on me last legs

My accomplice is dead

No sunlight down here

In this dungeon so deep

Just this inky black darkness

And my thoughts as I weep

Worn through to the bone

Are my limbs from these shackles

Whilst the jailer ignores me

He laughs and he cackles

Left to the rats

The grim reaper approached

And the incessant sound

Of the scuttling black roach

Two piles of old bones

Some chains on a wall

Entombed here forever

No mercy at all

Picked clean of flesh

In this damp riddled cell

Released from the jailer

And his creatures from hell.

©

Mr. Watson

June 2014





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