Apocalypse

Smelling like death wrapped with rot, The stench in the air was cold, A paste of murk sunk from the wall, The wall that was writhing with mould, As you stepped a forced step over the vile, Forcing your foot to the black, You placed your bare foot into the murk, Where it eerily suddenly sank, But you didn’t flinch, didn’t mind, Your reaction was one of no care, You didn’t mind that all was in ruin, Ruin and filth everywhere, No, you just walked right on in, a staggering hell, No more small thoughts in your head, And felt the blood ooze from your broken down mouth, You where the plague of the walking undead.