Corpses


The wind whispers and whimpers and wails
throughout this ******, ****** night.
It cries and calls out and it cackles a cacophony of croaking, dying voices.
It hurts, it hurts and bleeds.
This night echoes voices- the throaty
voices of the dead and the gone.
The dead and gone and
the gangrene and rotten, ruinous souls that haunt us all.
The rotten.
The ruinous.
The souls we've left behind.