Twisted Flesh
Beneath the moon's unholy glow,
In shadowed depths where horrors grow,
The earth convulses, soil and bone—
Birthing forms unknown, alone.
Limbs that twist, faces torn,
Joints misplaced, grotesquely worn,
Eyes that blink in clusters wide,
Hungry mouths that gape and hide.
Once they walked as you and I,
Bound by stars and blue-lit sky,
Now twisted skin, sinews fused,
Breathless things, forever bruised.
They creep with steps of sickly grace,
Skin stretched tight, a mask misplaced.
Whispered voices fill the air,
Like echoes from a madman's prayer.
Turn away if you are wise,
Lest their gaze meets your eyes—
For in that stare, a secret waits:
To twist your flesh, to seal your fate.
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