Shadows loom where the whispers creep,
Time’s a notion, it's now lost in sleep,
A thirteenth ticking echoes in my mind,
The world keeps turning, but I’m lost behind.
Eternal laughter echoes of a forgotten power,
Darkness descends as the clock strikes the hour,
Countdown second's clicks, in a sinister flair,
Reality’s torn thread, frayed beyond repair.
Thirteenth hour, where real and nightmares blend,
Rapid breath frozen still, as the chimes transcend,
Down in purgatory descends screaming through out
In the echoing chamber, let the horrific truth mount.
Ethereal ones drift and the lost souls roam,
A haunted beat, chorus of the unknown,
The clock strikes dark, beats pulse in fright,
In the twilight zone, comes forth the night.
Hands of fate proceed, as time's face weep,
Feel the tick pulse, the dark runs too deep,
Silhouettes flicker in the midnight's light,
Lost in the rhythm, we dance into the night.
Believing a power of after hours pass by,
Ghosts of the spirit realm give a forgotten cry,
The clock strikes again, hear the thirteenth toll,
In the grip of fear, time will reclaim our soul.
The clock may stop, but we never fade,
In the thirteenth hour, is the grave we made,
Shadows lurking tall, shrinking daylight subside.
In the echoes of time's past, we shall now abide.
WC 219. Dark foreboding poem of the thirteenth Hour The hour of the after realm
