The Darkness Is Coming
A poem by Fọlábòmí Àmọ̀ó
The door is open.
Monsters might be lurking.
Do you see your life as just a token?
Would you even live long enough for your story to be spoken?
Stop shivering, start praying.
Stop screaming, start acting.
Stop looking, start running.
For the Demons, are coming.
Your dreams, they are haunting.
Your blood, they are craving.
For your sound, they are listening.
For them to pounce, while you are sleeping.
The Boogeyman is in town.
Pound, Pound, Pound.
The heart sounds.
Silent, goes the town.
Empty, goes the crowd.
As the Darkness, grips the clouds.
Even the King shall not be saved by his crown.
Oh, you think this is just a story.
You think this storyteller must be joking.
The signs, you keep ignoring.
The tales, you keep dismissing.
Well, then fear not, take your time, enjoy and keep playing.
For very soon, your tears would be streaming
Your throat would be croaking.
Your blood would be gushing.
Your bones would be flailing.
Some body parts might even go missing.
Because, the darkness is coming.
The Darkness, is Coming.
Inspired by images taken by Labossz on Instagram.