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This place is strange, it has no walls,
It has no doors, it has no halls
And it has this peculiar smell,
I can’t make it out, but I know it well

Where am I now?
How did I get here?
And why am I so filled with fear?

Something moves squishily through the dark,
I pray for some light, even a spark

I finally place the scent, the one I know so well,
The smell is blood, and this place is Hell

Sorry, gotta admit this isn’t my strongest horror poem. I’m just trying to get back into the horror poetry game, and constant practice seems to be the best way to do that. Next up: new rhyming schemes.