Time flies by,as the thunder rolls

Clouds turn black, as the storm turns cold.

The wind whispers future

but the words chill my soul

for what the future holds for me

is not a story to be told.

A chill carries silence, an eerie prescence hidden by mist

A prolonged death, traces washed away by the flood.

Night creeps on, hiding the sun, A new day no longer coming for one of the newly succombed.

Lightening illuminates their shadow, then it fades into the abyss. A silent murder to be whispered among the rest.