Cold metal
against
skin and bone.
The guillotine of hope
drops
like a stone.
Heavy
and quick,
it falls
and hairs
are split
as are necks,
and bits of gristle.
In all I'd say
the experience
left me
feeling quite
miserable.
It was a bad way
to spend an evening.
1 star.
Wouldn't frequent again.
But then how am I talking to you?
I hear you cry.
Well, they may
have killed the body
but my soul
didn't die.
So now I haunt
this old, deserted place.
The guillotine
long ago ripped away
but it seems
I am here to stay.
like part
of the furniture
one could say.
I've seen this place
change over the years.
After the last head rolled,
we had two world wars.
Not much happened here,
but in yonder fields
I could hear
booms and the screams
of munitions exploding
and broken dreams
of futures corroding.
In more recent years
the place became
a bar
A trendy haunt I fear,
Well, they fear me,
when I float in the room
and open my face
ear to ear.
Screeching piercing
sounds to scare.
Well, you have to get
your kicks somehow!
Thanks for reading
Endless Nightmares out now
300 pages of horror themed poetic storytelling
Please take a look at my previous collection "Torn Pages"
100+ all new poems not shared here before.
https://tinyurl.com/KCtornpages
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