The name of this poem is "The Skull" it has a PG-13 rating. The poem is also not dedicated to anyone, and criticism is allowed.
00:35, February 16, 2015 (UTC)
No-one is allowed to copy from this, you may use the ideas that you may receive from reading this. If you wish to use part of this poem in a story or for anything else on the wiki, politely ask me before you copy the poem.
In the calm of night, this message seems to ring out.
It comes about when the moon covers the sun.
I lie there in the place, covered in what seems like serenity.
The morbid, vile, yet so foretelling message of the night comes about.
The head cannot move, and the eyes cannot blink away this one.
The Skull canvases the front of darkly shadowed serenity.
Around the serenity, such an unearthly, such a holy light.
And in the corner at hand, as the moon comes to pass, it is no longer bright.
Words come to the mouth, but they utter not.
Lips prepare to move, but move not.
The words come to the throat, but come out they do not.
The moment of serenity is long since fleeting.
And blazing fire burns among The Skull.
Slowly the Skull’s lips move, and its words the ears are hearing.
It is to late, of the self it was full.
Calmly it appends, it is to late.
But in the mid summer night, fright will shine with the greatest of its might.