I had to share one more rhyme.
From under the sea
they have come for me.
Rising from the deep
they come when I sleep.
Through the small town they roam
looking for a new home.
Blending with tourists at day
but at night they get to play.
Bloodthirsty as they are
they don’t have to go far.
They take sustenance within reach
leaving dead bodies on the beach.
Tourists flee the hotel
before they’re doomed to hell.
The evil one walks tall.
Our town will surely fall.
THE DEAD GAME
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