This is a ghost town,
Reining down like a chilling wind
Biting the tips of my fingers.
So vacant in life so lurid in thought,
We watch our friends rot
Burning within its hell.
This is a ghost town,
Were sorrow rests
And Satan tests our will as men
Never to regain it all in the end.
A town in hell will tell a story,
A story of deceit to lure our souls
Down to its core never to be found
This is a ghost town were sorrow will never mend
Deaths design for our end.
A contest entry
- "The End" by JustAnotherIdoit.
450 points, ended February 24, 2008, 20 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
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Comments
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thanks so much for the entry.
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