The Bad Place
A terror poem in honor of the Halloween season.
By Jason Ray Morton Published about a year ago • 1 min read
Putrid stenches of the bad place stain my nostrils, the smell everlasting,
I try not to remember the sight of that monstrous reality in my dreams,
Screams in the night all I hear when my head hits the pillow,
I struggle to wash the taste of that hell from my mouth,
Looking at my hands, I still feel the warmth of all that blood I can never wash away,
About the Creator
Jason Ray Morton
Writing has become more important as I live with cancer. It's a therapy, it's an escape, and it's a way to do something lasting that hopefully leaves an impression.
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