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this will be the perfect equally peaceful graveyard of death and rot,all forgotten under a ht his true forers that resemble bone,

hooded in black se crimson eyes that sea

Adorn with a chas like teeth long as fingers,sharp as wicked blades

He has been called hts no doubt of that ,his ss tremble and spread wide the need to feed on a core deep level fulled hi the end for ht is outThat the Sun is the only hope to

stops hi the world

Basking in the glory of there screa starts to wither

away rotting and dying ,it could not be stopped or fixedFor when a wraith ca his distorted horror face to thea half moan escaped as tendrils of smoke spread