Premature Decay

Fog distils itself over a death-laden field

Ethereal entities ascend in their armies.

A militia of lost hearts shroud the country-scape

Their fractured features frozen yet oddly unscathed.

Creeping, clawing, crying in their masses

Souls strewn out, neglected by the classes.

A haunted haven welcomes them home

While here they’re left to decay, to erode.

By Tyler Turner


One thought on “Premature Decay

  1. Pingback: Artwork Needed! | themausoleumscriptures

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