Sinister Hours
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And while the moon turns
its light off, my vision blurs…
a sylph- like form appears
nearing the edge of my ghastly roam;
its dark contours following me
while smokey breath pulses with chilled air;
till my will to survive takes over
an animalistic gut,
unsure if this sinister hours of terror
can unleash a dreaded fear
to bring me home safely , as I
tremble in the pounding, black rain.
.............
Dark Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Nayda I. Negron
Copyright © Nette Onclaud | Year Posted 2015
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