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A horror poem about a fictional little town, based on my short story, which I'm thinking of turning into a play instead.
mindless wanderer who stays devout
to lies of reality, day, and sleep.
Beneath a tree, she starts to weep,
when the tree of white glowed a light so bright,
and blinded she stayed well into the night.
Asleep she fell quick and hard,
then found herself in a mysterious yard.
Around she saw grass of black,
and porcelain faces all broken and cracked.
These faces belonged to people around,
moving about without making a sound.
They didn't wear masks, these faces were true,
and their bodies were cracked and broken too.
As she saw this, she wanted to scream,
then stumbled and fell, yet no pain it seemed.
This was a dream, it couldn't be real
after all, she couldn't even feel
She opened her mouth, trying to speak,
but compared to the stitches her attempts were meek.
Her mouth was sewn shut, but not before,
under the tree; last night, quarter til 4.
Then she saw a tree in plain sight.
the one she had slept beneath of last night,
and she realized she was in the same place.
Then she saw something familiar, a face,
the one she saw coming in last night,
being guided along by an unseen light.
The air turned black, and plants shone white,
giving off a strange, unfamiliar light.
It radiated from them, as if a ghost,
and the forest was it's new host.
The face was why she wondered through,
following the stranger, in pursue
of their destination, to find a hidden place
through this long dead space.
And here it led her, to this spot
where she cried and fought
to escape the cloud of dark,
into her world, where light still sparked.
So there she was, fallen back onto the ground,
group of broken people all around.
Enclosed in a wood of black and white,
where day was false, and all is night.
Here the people never sleep,
outside their windows they always peep,
searching for wanderers passing through,
the Ghost Catcher leading them to.
The sinister plot set up in this town
to trap the trespassers and take them down.
100's have come, none to be found,
no one saw anything or heard a sound.
They simply disappeared, lost forever,
the murders never stop, not now, not ever.
And in the forest the girls life was lost,
to protect their town, this was the cost.
Like hundreds before, and hundreds after,
she was killed the protect the town from disaster.
At night the town is in plain view,
black air, white trees that glow in the dark view,
but only if you see the Ghost Catcher first,
leading you in, to manage the thirst.
Trying to lore innocents into it's trap,
guiding them along with death's map.
It needed them to complete the town,
otherwise it's work would come crashing down.
It's hatred made the air turn the blackest of nights,
their lives made the trees glowing bright white.
It blocked out day, stopped all sleep,
lead people in, only the bad would it keep.
Now broken and crushed, sick in the head,
they watch all the time, never going to bed.
Waiting for the ghost catcher to bring some more,
all the time they kill, only one reason for.
The bad fuels the hatred, creating their town,
without this it would all come crashing down,
so the bad townspeople wait sick in the head
to make some more trees out of the dead.