A Rusted WInd

November 16, 2017
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I walk in the dark room
A haunting feeling,
blood dripping on my shoulder
from bullet holes above.

I walk by the beds, rusting
stained with blood
from the people before.

The sound of bugs
crawling and crunching
around the room
gives me Chills

A small steady voice
“Wanna play with me?”

I turn and look
no one's there
I feel a presence near me

The smell of sour blood
A heavy rusty wind
breaks the window and rushes in.

I black out…






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