Post by Sathien on Dec 4, 2003 11:57:50 GMT -5
It stifles the tinkling of keys I hear each night
And the door creaking
And the walls pulsating
And the planks complaining under the weight of that stealthy shadow
In those dead hours my ears are deaf
Of wary footsteps and echoes of pounding flesh
Of uneven breaths and quavering lips
Of trembling fingers clutching the sharpness that speaks of my doom
Only the deceiving hum of the music box reaches my ear
As I lay comfortably on the smooth silk covers of my bed
Oblivious to the morbid prophecy unfolding around me
Oblivious to the shiny metal raised heavily above my chest
Oblivious to the shrill cry and the piercing groan of madness
Oblivious until the harshness of the sharp knife was thrust into me
Its jagged edges rending my skin apart, ripping my flesh
Tearing my veins, torturing my mind and body, leaving me in agony
Blood oozing out in copious rivers with each thrust made
Crimson staining the covers, the planks, the walls, the door
I lay there, convulsing violently, turning pale;
Eyes wide with shock and horror, lips slowly turning blue
Only then did I hear the sad rhythm of the raindrops
Only then did I hear the hovering raven on my windowsill
Only then did I hear the veiled truth in the crickets’ noise
Only then did I hear the reality obscured by the music in that box
Only it is too late
Soon, I felt the darkness stalk, claim me in a cold suffocating embrace
Freezing my every limb, my every vein, and what blood was left
Until nothing remained
None of the blood stains and the torn flesh and the body that suffered
Nothing except for that music box
Drowning with its fraudulent drone what events had transpired
Only the music box remained
No memories, no visions, no sounds
Just the music box
Waiting to be opened
Hoping for another kill
And the door creaking
And the walls pulsating
And the planks complaining under the weight of that stealthy shadow
In those dead hours my ears are deaf
Of wary footsteps and echoes of pounding flesh
Of uneven breaths and quavering lips
Of trembling fingers clutching the sharpness that speaks of my doom
Only the deceiving hum of the music box reaches my ear
As I lay comfortably on the smooth silk covers of my bed
Oblivious to the morbid prophecy unfolding around me
Oblivious to the shiny metal raised heavily above my chest
Oblivious to the shrill cry and the piercing groan of madness
Oblivious until the harshness of the sharp knife was thrust into me
Its jagged edges rending my skin apart, ripping my flesh
Tearing my veins, torturing my mind and body, leaving me in agony
Blood oozing out in copious rivers with each thrust made
Crimson staining the covers, the planks, the walls, the door
I lay there, convulsing violently, turning pale;
Eyes wide with shock and horror, lips slowly turning blue
Only then did I hear the sad rhythm of the raindrops
Only then did I hear the hovering raven on my windowsill
Only then did I hear the veiled truth in the crickets’ noise
Only then did I hear the reality obscured by the music in that box
Only it is too late
Soon, I felt the darkness stalk, claim me in a cold suffocating embrace
Freezing my every limb, my every vein, and what blood was left
Until nothing remained
None of the blood stains and the torn flesh and the body that suffered
Nothing except for that music box
Drowning with its fraudulent drone what events had transpired
Only the music box remained
No memories, no visions, no sounds
Just the music box
Waiting to be opened
Hoping for another kill
