Body of Fog

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic


A poem about nothing in particular.

Submitted: December 29, 2017

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Submitted: December 29, 2017

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Severed dreams,
Children's screams. 
System failure,
Massacre of words. 
Sweat drenching your shirt, 
Tremble banishment; rage of power. 
Your eyes depleting to murk, 
Your heart diminished of work. 
Your gloves discarded in snow,
Your blood constricted of flow. 
Frostbite sells you to a state of limbless,
Body charred and blackened by sickness.
Snow is shoveled atop, 
As your figure becomes a crop. 
The crows were beckoned,
While they ripped your soul away, I reckoned. 
Your corpse disgracefully alienated from a grave,
Forged into a traceless cave. 
The crows, plump for days to come, 
Visit to see you are a faceless statue of bones, squalidly numb. 
Your bloodied shirt, a remnant,
Savored by frigid mud.
Envelop your truest destiny, 
Refrain from unaware. 
Sacrifice, sacrifice.


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