He knew his wrongs.
He sat there, in that room, the room of red anguish. He sat on nothing, yet he was on everything. The floor underneath him was hardened blood, which floated on a sea of jet black pain. The walls were rotten, disease infested bodies, all glaring at him with their dead eyes. The ceiling was covered by skeletons with red horns on their skulls, reaching to him, trying to take him into their realm.
He knew what he did. His hands still reeked of blood, and his mouth was still filled with the taste of putrid meat. His nostrils were always filled with the smell of festering death. And all he heard, through out the entire day was silence. The foreboding silence. The soul shattering silence. The Dead Silence.
He knew what was to come to him. He always sat as he was, in the middle of that room, rocking back and forth.
He knew the sins he committed. The feel of his own cold skin. He was tired of life. He knew his wrongs, he knew what he did, he knew what was to come and he knew the sins he committed. He wanted to have his eternal sleep, so he pulled his tongue out, and with a great bite, he tore it in half. The blood flowed free from his body, and the world around him dissolved into the white room he once entered, long ago, painting the floor below him with pure red. He rests his eyes as he descended to the hell below him, accepting it with joy as he did.
- Title: The Room
- Artist: 3rchaos
- Description: again, another poems written out of boredom XD but i wonder, what was the Committed crime? hmm.....
- Date: 02/24/2009
- Tags: room