Tangled in the grasping hate
Pulled beneath the swarming
The black cloud clings to us
Obscuring our efforts
Absorbing our will
This spiteful multitude gorges on us
Tearing tiny strip after tiny strip
Of what little good is left
In the tombs of our souls
A rip
A tear
More blood
More fear
The distance stretches as the sea rolls us
Like skeletons in the sand
If only
if only we could just reach
perhaps
we could
Defeat our monstrous shadows
~by Jeanette A.
Horror Made 