Macabre
 
Silent and still, tears roll from my cheek, drip drop.
Moment to moment tortured pain, they will not stop.
Well past the witching hour, or so says the clock.
Alas, my witches and demons can't tell time, tic toch.

By panther811

© 2015 panther811 (All rights reserved)

 

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This Poem is part of a Challenge: - Sweet and Short (8) (challenge has been closed)


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