Slipknot- Original Poetry
Swings hanged man on deaths hand.
Dancing in the gibbet for all to see.
While the reaper waits.
The wandering miasma of the wastes.
Crawls across your skin.
Oily smoke and stinking of pitch.
That darkness came from within.
That fog is not so empty.
Dark shapes slide past slow.
No angels to lead you higher.
Death took you from below.
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