A/N
I own nothing,
but a rhyme or two.
I don't earn money,
I write for myself
and, dear reader,
You.
It's cold and hollow outside.
The Skull and the Snake
Are glowing in the sky.
Is this a dream or are you awake?
Hooded figures, hoovering,
Drawing in sharp breaths,
It's so cold and empty,
The rise of the Death.
Don't open the gate.
Walk right through the metal.
Apologize, you're late.
Take a seat, they waited for you.
Red eyes meet yours,
Searching for something.
You were already through this,
Leave no feelings lingering.
The night is empty,
It brings chills down your spine.
You lost something
That was never yours to be claimed.
The coldness won't go away,
Nothing can help, not even the Sun.
The night is the same as the day.
Those unwanted need to run.
Soon you'll have to come again,
To speak it'll be your turn.
Maybe it is constantly cold outside,
But the Mark on your arm always burns.