Twisted Horror Stories by Matthew Tonks

I note my words of worthiness on the paper before me know they are full of malcontent, I riddle a lie within a god, I sin within a sin of man, quiet are it’s words, as they are screamed at my soul, so you hear the music as it sways, can you feel the beat of the drum ignite, for a nothingness of epicness is drawing near, sullying it’s song with a wickedness so strong the beat cannot resist but tap along, so stay a while, dance with me, hold my hand, and know that I am the lie that sits inside your chest, waiting to die…