Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Lisa Sep 2020
It was quiet as he went into the night
in a city devoid of all light
His face hidden behind a hat
his identity was a mistery, and yet,
when I walked by him at 1 o clock
he turned his head and I felt a knock

My door began to open and let him in
When he walked through the frame I could feel it begin
My edges frayed
My insides decayed
When he had turned his head
I was already walking among the dead

— The End —