A DARK COCOON

eclipse

The moon passes the sun.

Morning bows out, all done.

Darkness unveils its grim poker hand

to the drum beat of the marching band.

A moment of blackness

brings fears of more darkness.

What if your life was all dark?

The sun never lefts its mark.

The mornings and nights the same,

bringing you mountains of pain.

No relief from the bleak cocoon

like digging your grave with a spoon.

Years fade and turn to dust,

your memory goes bust.

Trapped in walls of despair,

without holes for the air.

Is this living or not?

She is stuck in one spot.

Too afraid to venture outside,

a further blow to her lost pride.

She hides in the nursing home,

where she reaches for the phone.

“Help me,”​ she cries out.

No one can help out.

Lost in her dark cocoon,

where she fits like a spoon.

Waiting for death to take its flight

to a better place in the light.

OUR GAMES HAVE JUST BEGUN — THE DEAD GAME — PART 15

A dark tunnel leading to nothingness.
Its entrance cleverly concealed
By our town.
Once entered,
There’s no going back.

A town,
Where time stands still,
Where time listens to no one.
Its will drives us on.

Where is the secret entrance?
Beyond which door?
Could be the door to End House.
Or maybe the door of the villagers.

A strange door the villagers have.
A door that opens to any fantasy.
Controlled by whom?
By the village sheriff.
But who really owns this door?

Questions race around Linda’s mind.
Round and round they go.
Should she search for the door?
Will it provide her answers?

Shadows cast by the trees
Tower over her.
The forest takes on a grim look.
Its features darkening and lengthening.

She should leave right now
While there’s still some light.
But she must find the door.
The door will answer all.

A twig snaps.
Leaves blow in a circle.
The circle tightens
And so does Linda’s throat.

THE DEAD GAME

BLACK ROSES

BLACK ROSES

A town haunted by evil,
Taunted by The Dead.
Where night is day,
And day ends too soon.
Where darkness brings shadows
And gusting winds.
Winds with talons in its grasp,
And chanting on its breath.
Where roses turn dark and grim,
Black with the rising moon.
A town haunted by evil,
Taunted by The Dead.

THE DEAD GAME

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