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THE CUP OF LIFE IS FILLED WITH THE BLOOD OF THE ALL KNOWING,
SLICED CHOPPED MINCED, DICED SPLAT SPLAT SPLAT BLOOD COVERS THE WALLS AND THE CIELLING ,
SHIMMERING DAWN SHIMMERING DAY LAUGH THE BLOOD OUT OF YOUR MOUTH, GAUGH YOUR EYES OUT , BITE THE NECK LIFT THE SKIRT ITS ALMOST DONE RELAX YOUR MIND FEEL THAT BREZZE THAT ME COMING TO GET THEE

POEM BY MORBIDICA heart

ok, its not my pooem, but i really love it. check it outttt.



it is about four am, and you can't get to sleep
The old hard wood floor, did you hear a silent scream?
The night is so foggy, you are even unable to dream.

It is pitch black, your room like a silent lagoon.
You sit up on your bed.
You see a figure by your closet.
You breathe in relief,
It was just a costume.

You feel air on your face,
How did your window open?
You slowly roll of the bed,
What was that?
It looked like a head.

Just as you start to worry,
you look again.
It is just a mask.
You shut the window, the end of your task.
You hop on the bed,
You hear something from the closet door creak.
From the soft blanket, you take a small peak.

Your closet opens just a bit more,
You look up in awe, your neck just a little bit sore
A tall, dark figure stands at the door.
He takes a step forward, his head peaking through
White skin, red nose, a painted smile with blue.
The smell of him, like little children's blood.
Your mouth closes as the fear takes over vibrantly.

Another step forward he brings up his blade
You can't even move, you're too afraid.
He's been waiting for you, waiting all day
He's been waiting for someone to come out and play.

Murdered that morning at 4:44
Gutted and bled.
He'd found his new playmate, young little Julie.
Hiding and waiting you might be next
You never know.
It could be waiting, your time is slowly fading.
Check for the Clown In Your Closet.