Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

dance of death

Custom User Avatar
More by this author
The dance of death lingers near,
Whispering in your ear,
Pulling slightly at your leg,
Sharping deaths old blade,
Digging through the cold wet ground,
Sneaking up without a sound,
Piling on the dirt,
Making every moment hurt.



Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

Site Feedback