Charred Teeth

Death has a grip on me. It's charred teeth gnaw and
snarl at me like sharpened swords. Ripping through
my heart with gashing blood eveywhere. Cutting
through the bones like massive blades I suffer
but cannot die.

Death holds me in it's grip and is glorified in
torturing me. It wants me to live in it's grip
and fight the fires of hell for eternity.

His charred teeth will continue to gnaw and snarl
he will laugh and take pleasure in doing so.
My heart will continue ripping until the charred
teeth are covered in blood.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2011

Poem

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May 1, 2011 at 12:11 AM
Tina, wow! Has a little jeeps of creeps here... its hard to get rid of the things that haunts us... enjoyed..p.d.
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