There is a place, where even angels fear to tread,
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Behind these locked doors, in the House of the Dead.
Nothing remains here that is willing to be saved,
Behind these walls, hells minions are enslaved.
Resting eternally, in silk lined bedding, filled with dirt
Their bodies lay cold and empty, their minds on constant alert.
Embracing the darkest of shadows, this place they lay their head
Hidden away in darkness, inside the House of the Dead
As darkness now takes over, and light slowly fades to gray
They’ll listen for his calling, “Come my children and play”
They’ll rise up one by one, from the depths of the catacombs below.
Answering his hypnotic calling, out into the shadows they’ll go
Searching for a victim, someone to make there own,
The kiss of death is cold; it chills you to the bone.
Promises are made, of eternal life and youth
None of these things they promise could be further from the truth.
Mesmerized by her beauty, you can’t resist her kiss.
You feel her breath upon your neck, your body in a state of bliss.
A euphoric feeling overcomes you, as her poison rushes thru your veins
She drains the life from your body, now empty and without pain.
She’ll leave you as she found you, a lost soul amidst the night.
You’ll beg for god’s forgiveness, and to help you with this plight
Your body begins to change; it’s now much colder to the touch.
The food you use to consume, you no loner need as much
The heart that once beat in your chest, no longer makes a sound,
Blood that use to fill your veins, no longer can be found.
Daylight, a thing of the past, no longer will you walk in the light.
Darkness now, your only friend, bound by the shadows of the night
The craving for blood, now consumes your every thought.
Damned to night, forever bound to this earthly hell, alone, and distraught
Years from now, memories from your past, still echo thru your head
As you lie in your silk lined bedding, here in the House of the Dead.
STEVE E. POORE