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Skeleton

A walking pile of bones

By Mark Stigers Published 2 years ago • Updated 2 years ago • 1 min read

I am a walking bone pile.

I am what is left after your body rots.

I am a monster vile,

your nightmares I will haunt.

I will attack you with a sword.

I will hack you with an axe.

I am commanded by my evil lord

to give you forty whacks.

My lord is dark as endless night.

He summoned me from death’s embrace-

A shadowed king devoid of light,

I hunt the living in his place.

I have no family, no race.

I am not male or female.

I have not a sexy face;

With me you do not want to dwell.

If you see me,

after you I will come.

Scared of me, you should be,

if I were you, I’d run.

I am a horror.

Me you should dread.

If I get you,

I’ll make you one of the dead.

surreal poetry

About the Creator

Mark Stigers

One year after my birth sputnik was launched, making me a space child. I did a hitch in the Navy as a electronics tech. I worked for Hughes Aircraft Company for quite a while. I currently live in the Saguaro forest in Tucson Arizona

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    Written by Mark Stigers