Monday, August 29, 2016

FLY AWAY



Fly away, birds.
Fly free from this place.
From the town of demons.
Where walkers of the night.
Wait for the dark.
For their deadly games.
Palm trees bow to their power.
Sand covers their victims.
Tourists flee the hotel.
The winds howl their name.
Hail pounds their beat.
Lightning shows the way.
The Dead are here to stay.
THE DEAD GAME
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