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.