Sores of the Sarcophagus

 Nails etch in a mind uncouth,
 Callously ignore advice for the youth.
 "Do not visit ivied Sarcopha good lad,
 or visit dead streets about leaking sores".
 The lesson ignored, venturing to explore
     Decrepit Sarcopha.
 
 I step and I creep,
 Sweeping ill vines from their sleep.
 A forgone conclusion, a sore so deep,
 Witness to terrors that leave me to weep,
     For lost Sarcopha.
 
 As shadows do fall, A teror does rise.
 All flesh too seared to describe,
 A gag reflex, I choke and reveal;
 Formless devils crawl to unpeel.
     Shadows rape Sarcopha.
 
 If only you knew, 5 bullets let loose,
 And left me to sleep, the last is my noose.
     Buried beneath Sarcopha.