Muffled screams from the stairs at the attic door.
A voice, a whisper like the wind through the voids of your mind.
"Darkness comes, through your fear, soon you will be mine."
Pain screams within your head, the man upstairs... he is dead.
Breaking silence in mental text, whispering to you, "your next"
what to do, is this real, can I see it, or feel
The mind can play tricks yet silence is heard
The whispers in the mind like the feathers of birds
They carry warnings and tidings of woe
Like an albatross ahead of the storms & snow
Run, run like the winds and leave this place
Or stand in wait for the one you must face
Not heaven or hell nor all of man kind
Can stop the incorporeal being you shall find
The bringer of death within whispers you hear
The harbinger of silence and primal fear.
Leave this place and speak not a sound
Or answer to me for those you have found.
I am Azrael bringer of death & ,many have said
I am the author and keeper of the book of the dead.
- Acerbus Amor
Location:Cleveland, Ohio
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