Black Death

Squeaking of rats
And rain pours down
To abandoned streets
Where chilly wind sweeps
Carrying the gruesome sound
Of human bones and skulls

Churchdoor hangs open
Prayers are ended
No salvation
Rotting priest suffocated
To his own blood and vomit
Laying dead on altar

Portrait of dead
Children with their parents
Putrid corpses
Beside eachother
In grotesque piles
Flesh not yet turned to dust

Deformed carcass dried
Souls sucked away
Before spreading wings
Of blackdeaths way