Board Thread:Lores/@comment-30517583-20170926111137

Welp I found that I enjoyed doing a depressing poem about death, violence and suicide....

So here we go! Hordes sweep across the open ground,Dead eyes, faces all in the same grimace, trance of death. In the buildings above, guns are raised. Teeth clenched, fingers tense.The clacking of rifle bolts being drawn, the metallic clink of a dropped round,Killing intent on each face, but all a pretence.For in each soul, there exists fear, driven, writhing, into the dark recess of the ground. A wooden club, 3 metres long, flies through the air, a dark sceptre of death,Slamming into a tower overlooking the main street.It embeds itself underneath a window, and in a blaze of splinters, showers death,On the two men stationed behind the window. Gore and blood splatters the inside of the room.Shards of broken skull, pulverised brain,Spray the walls like a burst water balloon. The other men stir, fear clawing its way into their stomachs.Glory, honour, respect, fame, money....What is it's worth when you succumb to the monsters' attacks? The commander, scarred veteren in a Bulldozer suit,Rallies them out of their hopeless,hopeless, hopeless, thoughts. Gunfire erupts, spilling out of twelve positions.Golden light bathing the street,Tracer rounds thudding into tarmac, rubble, or the World's monstrous creations.Clubs fly through the air greet the gunners, accomponied by the tongues of Edgars hiding amongst the stacks of wheat. Death roams the streets and alleyways,Stalks the buildings one by one,Mocking the humans in their bid, their race,TO KILL. One by one the buildings fall,Death taking its toll,Through the clubs and tongues, its scythe cuts the humans down, hawl by hawl.The zombies trampling down doors and up stairs its sickle, mercilessly killing, corpses roll.Only to be devoured by the hungry mouths of the dead. The humans lose hope. Lose all cohesion.Except at the start, they never had any. Each man his own commander, each his own downfall.Their 'Leader' is gone, down into the stomachs of ten different corpses. And slowly, one by one, the orange glows subside,until nothing is left. Only the wind, the city. And the endless horde of the undead. 