Voices of shouting with such distress, the beat of my hear begins to progress
Louder the violence become to my ears, the sounds of panic growing near
Whip of a blade and sigh of a breath, could it be the call of death?
Then and there, the welcome of doom, suddenly silence crosses the room
The presence is gone and the noises do die, no more screams do I hear and no more cries
©Emmely Byrd 1999