Tragic nightmares.

Tragic nightmares, of words that send down a chill

and drops of deep red that sadistically spill.

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An inhumanely coldness frozen inside a vein,

shields flawlessly, the happiness you feign.

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A man with a sword and an axe out to kill,

you sit for death and the world becomes still.

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Tragic nightmares, of a sour bloodstain,

they cannot be washed, all attempts are in vain.

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Once solace fools, the time goes downhill,

making you want to end yourself off your will.

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A place of malign and forever bearing the pain,

a place of the haunt where the unnatural demons reign.

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Tragic nightmares, of irrefutable hideous skill

and something of the sphere that makes one ill.

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A mind of grotesqueness bounded with a chain,

awaiting an end towards a peace to finally attain.

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Fantasizing a utopia with the darkness of the thrill,

with a box in the hand of memories to instill.

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Tragic nightmares, making the black venom to rain,

the rain might stop, but will undeniably visit again.