Bright red blood turns into crimson,
As the darkness of death falls.
The undeads work is about to begin,
Then you hear their mournful calls.
“Come to me,” it seems their saying,
But you know you can’t give in.
You know you must keep on delaying,
If you don’t want to end up in sin.
Nov 8, 2011
Nov 8, 2011 at 8:49 PM UTC
Bright red blood turns into crimson,
As the darkness of death falls.
The undeads work is about to begin,
Then you hear their mournful calls.
“Come to me,” it seems their saying,
But you know you can’t give in.
You know you must keep on delaying,
If you don’t want to end up in sin.
This is an original by Jenna Johnston. If you like it, by all means write it down, but give credit where credit is due, please
Request permission to use this poem