He Screamed* The Scream was as loud as a vulture’s screech A horrible, horrific, horrendous scream terrible as the howl of a creature meeting death evil and wickedness manifesting into sound Only the most vile of creatures could have made this deep hollowing scream But why? Why did he scream? Two men scurry away like pesky rodents As if they were culprits Their shadowy, enigmatic figures recede from view Into the dead of night As his scream held on Who are they? Behind him, a swirl, fusion, burst of color threatened to overwhelm him Threatening to overtake the horrific sound of his scream and silence it The swirl, a technicolor cloud of possibility A horizon far ahead, signaling a pace that shall never be reached His pale, ghosted face almost inhuman and demonic More dead than alive The yellow hollowness of his pupils are a deep ocean of fear His black garments eat him up and encourage his fear A scream fills the air. The scream rocks the boat A scream is all he is A scream is his fear and his life But why? What led to this consumption of fear That has corrupted his soul? Miles Hayford *Inspired by Edvard Munch’s The Scream
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