The Basement

Spooky Poetry

Alexsenia Ralat

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The ropes are rough against my skin

Water drips somewhere in the din

I open my eyes and everything’s black

Something cold is against my back

My chest is bare, my face is bloody

My legs are scratched my nails are stubby

My screams are silent, I can’t find my voice

I have to get out, I don’t have a choice

Somethings prowls at the edges of my consciousness

It begs for me, it’s hellbent

Desperate for freedom, I poke at the shadow

It spirals down my fingers, my breathing slows

It’s not evil, I think, I let it spread

It lets out a howl, I wake the dead

I let the beast out and it rips its chains

I became what I am because of a basement

I will never find who chained me

I will never thank who changed me

 

Death Becomes Her

 

The flesh on her hands melt away

To the bone and

So does the skin on her face

The cloak covers

Her body from the light of the day

Her eyes stay

Wide, the pupils, they fade

They show pity

On those that she may

Lay her hands on

The ones with flesh melted away

For, those that

Are chosen to leave this plane

Are chosen at

Her hands.

One thing is sure.

She becomes Death.

But Death becomes her.

 

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