The Dead

They dart

Back and forth

Among the shadows

A whisper

A sigh

A moan

Coming from nothing

That can be seen

An orb

A mass of blackness

A misty face

Send chills up the spine 

And give goosebumps to the witness

Things of myth

Things of mystery

The Unknown

Call to the human race

Sometimes heard

Sometimes not

They beckon to the curious

Like a siren’s call

So hard to resist

They can take over your mind

Whisper thoughts

As a conscience would

Drive people to do things

They want to be done

They are to be avoided

To be feared

They will draw the living in

With their siren songs

Calling them to their demise

Their death

Drawing them into the darkness

That consumed their souls

And trapped them among the living

Giving others their fate

Their eternal sentence

No escape

No take backs

Forever trapped among the living

They call others to join them

To build an army

To draw the entire human race

Into their black hole of death

That is their job

Tortured spirits

Evil spirits

The dead.

Reviews

[InsanityWriter]

You do some very nice descriptions. I especially like the use of the "siren song" as imagery. We're reading the Odyssey in my Lit. class, and I'm getting to the sirens part. They're some of my favorite mythological creatures to write about.
Well done!!

[H. E. Schreiter]

Thank you!

[rudelizard]

This is such a cool poem. I really like the format. It flows very well and moves along with an engaging pace. It's dark, mysterious and well written. Good job!

[H. E. Schreiter]

Thank you so much!