9 Years

Blood dripping from the walls,
getting nothing but crank calls.
Doors squeaking like never before,
not a chance, you could ignore.
Doors locked, windows won't break,
the house is now beginning to shake.
Moans coming from the attic,
nothing has ever been this dramatic.
Hearing noises from the basement,
dead bodies rising from the cement.
All the food is covered with maggots,
what is causing all this madness.
Hiding in the bedroom closet,
my body they want as a deposit.
Are they zombies or vampires,
maybe ghosts creating empires.
So scared, I **** my pants,
my body parts will become transplants.
This is the night of the living dead,
house built on a cemetery, so the demons said.
They tore the closet door wide open,
I stood there without a single motion.
They start to eat me piece by piece,
I could see my soul release.
The blood from the walls was mine,
the years I've been dead is nine.
For nine years, I've hid from hell,
I always wondered why I always had a bad smell.