You wandered the room.
Entered through the doorway.
Fluently floating, and timidly tracing.
Your temporal frame, your transient shape.
Your obsession with perfection and your warm cordial face.

I noticed bite marks on your arms and legs,
they were red and freshly laid.
You shouldn't go where you aren't safe.
The world can be a horrid place.

When I looked into your eyes,
They were dead and  they were cloudy.
I haven't seen or heard a thing scream dread so loudly.
I can see it in your soul, I can see in your consonance.
And if this what your future is, I don't want a part of it.