untitled
Ashen features,
tickle
the entrails
of a lullaby.
Slipping through
the ribcage,
timely,
with the deep breath
of sleep.
Dancing within,
the maniacal
eyes undeniably flowing,
scent of the child
pulling,
he creeps.
Three weeks new,
freshly baptized,
still...
fresh...
mortal.
Floorboards creak
slightly,
ever so slightly,
the creature
sways to the tune.
Silver blades slicing
over,
into
mangled flesh
on his torso,
slitting his arms,
skinning his face...
Liquid movement
sliding toward,
covering,
the sacrifice
of consequence.
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pixi27 |
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