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Drip, Drip goes the blood
into a congealing pool on the floor
as the cells die and the plasma harden
the creaking of limbs and twang of tendons pulled taut
signal the desent of a surreal being
primal hunger fuel its motives
fleshless bones causing movements
their next meal is coming closer
frigid hands grasp the victim
its then you realize . . .
your final day has come to pass
