600 of 1317

by Monster

As I lie here pondering away at insignificant and trivial matters - I can hear the low and basey echos of a distant ship heading out from the harbour. I curiously sit up and look from my window - the fog lies in sheets above the ground, covering everything with a delicate and fragile mask of mist...

It seeps into my window, making my skin feel clammy and cold, and the low sombre sounds of the shiphorn make the atmosphere eerie and melancholy...

Departing from this sleepy town, and into the night it goes - the ghostly sounds that they cast off from afar etches misery in our heads...

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Poetry: Dark poems

by Monster

Poetry: Dark poems

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