PHALANX

The dead are really furious...

Their spirits are becoming fastidious...

Diabolic acts forced them into slavery...

They wail and long for liberty...

Whatever sent souls wondering?...

Old age? Violence? Suffering?...

Whatever sent bodies underneath sand?...

Don't let pessimism rule your mind...

Death can easily scar through intimacy...

Most times, death calls for exigency...

A crowd would wail over a valiant soul...

Yet a waif may silently become a ghoul...

They claw and sharpen blades...

A different kind of war would be made...

Mere Humans against ghouls and phantoms...

Blades and claws would be swung at random...

The earth would witness such an unearthly clash...

No one is an exception, not even those with cash...

My little advice? "pray before laying your pillow"...

Because death could visit even through the window...