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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required You've stumbled off the righteous path, into the hushed Wilderness of the unknown, beware for salvation's sake, Go back nomad; travel not these paths of no return. But nay this is the domain of the shades, little is The light, allowed to seep through the thickets, heavily Forested canopy. You hear the underbrush cracking, braking, and freeze. It's too late for you nomad, for this is death's sacred land. A place of shadows and darkness, and you are the pray. It is the scent of fear, drawing these demon dogs of Damnation's lost, unto your path Run nomad, for the devil's hounds lie close behind thee, Those whom need no rest, the depraved, hungering for The taste of raw flesh, cravings lustful, with an insatiable thirst, Nay never to be satisfied, instinctual beasts on a blood hunts Trail. A packs brethren of the undead, dwelling along the fringes Of humanity, ever watching, ever aware, just waiting for The innocent to be caught off guard, than attacking without Mercy. Run no mad, for the bastard's of hell's keep, have sensed Your presence. In keeping with thy hearts rhythm blood pumps, in unisons With thy breath, As exhaustion's limbs tire of this chase, for your lives own Survival, run nomad, you must move onwards, at any cost. For the howl of the white fanged, nip at the back of thy heels, Flee do not take time to gaze behind thee, run nomad, Refuges salvation lies not far ahead. A primeval moon glows above thee, illuminating this spectral Land of the forbidden, it's just then, that you truly realize, the danger Zone you've entered, as yellow greenish eyes pierce Through the thickets wild, nomad your surrounded. Climb to the highest point of observation, as primitive instincts kick in, But these creatures have all eternity to wait, patient are the kin To the dead, slippery is the branch, on which humanity grasps, And beneath lie the tongues of the hungry beast, drooling with Anticipation feast to come. In the forest does anyone hear the falling of a tree? Or the screaming of a nomad, who has lost his way, Maybe it was just the wind that you have heard, I wonder, what the noise really was, as it echoes Deep within the forest of the unknown. BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
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