Cold dead grasp of a
decaying zombie witch.
Harlot in youth, grows to a
Dead diseased whore.
Green teeth protrude from
Dead black gums,
Infected festering flesh
Swollen with old blood.
Run Run Run, until your bones bleed
Crash to your knees, listen for the horde.
Wait to be ripped to bone.
Enjoy the silence, no need to scream.
Rotting nostrils flare stripped of skin.
Red eyes filled with blood stained pus.
Yellow nails, packed with dirt
Open sores, rash ridden pores,
Leaking viscose fluid.
Reeking with filth
Foot steps quake the ground
Their scent fills the air
Your caught in their stare.
The devil rings the bell
Thirteen ‘o’ clock,
Your trapped in the,
Cold dead grasp of a
Decaying zombie witch.