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Poetry By: Philip Roberts

A horror poen about a creeping figure stalking dark alleyways looking for human prey.

Submitted:May 20, 2011    Reads: 261    Comments: 1    Likes: 1   

A dark figure lurking
In dark alleys beyond view,
Awaiting late night travellers
A tired and lonely few.

A dark spectre crouching
Readying to leap upon,
Innocents just passing by
Unaware their lives are done.

He slinks within the eerie dark
Ready for wayward walkers,
Unaware that way brings death
For in the shadows hides a stalkers.

A stalker after human prey
His favourite type of kill,
For food, for fun, for sheer delight
To achieve the ultimate thrill.

The thrill of chasing down a prey
A prey that screams and pleads,
A thinking, crying, dying prey
The type the lurker needs.

For death's his greatest pleasure
He delights in causing fear,
To love struck swain courting late
Unaware that death lurks near.

From a darkened alleyway
A shrilling cry rings out,
For pain and death are ever near
When the lurker is about.

The lonely homeless folk
Forced to live outside,
Cower as evil lurks nearby
Expecting soon to die.

Aware that when the lurker comes
Their life at last is done,
They plead for a little succour
But society gives them none.

So as the rich folk sleep
Safe inside within their beds,
Street folk have no chance and so
Soon the streets are running red.

© Copyright 2011
Philip Roberts,
Melbourne, Australia


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