Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-27012445-20161204044615

Author's note: This rhyme is inspired by Nirvana's Scentless Apprentice drum beat. This is my first attempt at a poem so please be kind LOL.

Beware and despair, My most beloved child. When those eleven knocks doth thou hear, Your time to depart this world grows near.

Eleven knocks! Eleven Tocks! Exactly upon the approach of Eleven o'clock. Upon the doors of your bedroom's chamber, will you hear his ringing. Soon, needle and thread, upon your skin will be stinging.

Dressed in black, And a hides of skin for eyes, Two rings of barbed steel stretch his nostrils wide, The Scentless Apprentice taps a tune of your demise.

Blue, green or red, None catch his fancy. No, none at all. For he has no sight. He sees no light. But the stench of a wretched child, Oh, that aroma gives him such delight.

Eleven knocks! Oh God, Eleven knock's When you hear those Eleven tocks, It matters not, what keeps you safe Window latch nor bedroom locks, None can disobey those eleven knocks.

Beware and despair, My beloved lost child. For last night I heard it clear Those eleven knocks, Oh so near.

And this morning, upon morning's break. What did I find when I opened the door just a crack? Oh God, what did I see through that slit and that crack?

All I found, Without a sound, Was a blanket and a pillow tossed to the floor in a flood And a mattress stained with a single droplet of crimson blood, 