Mausoleum Tribute Poem by Blanche Hardin

I stumble and fall, down this elongated hall.
I fear for my life, and his blood-dripping knife.
He kills for the thrills, and laugh at death.
I’m screaming and running, and loosing my breath.
He stares in face as try to break free of his claw; all he’s done I watched in awe.
I was cold in the corner, as I watched in horror.
He slaughtered them like cattle, always loosing the battle.
They cried their last cry, as he watched the lights leave their eye.
This man is a not a man, but a fiend.
His heart of black left him demeaned.