May 2, 2011
By , Caldwell, ID
Stinking pit
Of death and pain,
Full of secrets
To dark to name.
Creeping things
Which hate the light,
Scraping claws
And brush of flight.
Bones breaking
Within fangs,
Hunger turning
Into pangs.
Moist, hot air
Breathed down your back.
Trees with shadows
Darker than black.
Rumbling earth
Shaking rocks to the ground,
Crumbling and cracking
But making no sound.

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