The Other Dimension - Poem

From a world,
Long lost,
Not relevant,
Or maybe thought so to be.

There came a visitor,
To put it without mildly,
If mild is even a resemblance,
To what lay before.

By the morning,
A tale of horror,
Dripping puddles of blood,
Across the weary faces of men.

Casting it out,
Lasting all along,
For the sun to rise,
Deadly hours of being.

Splashing into the lake,
To find a body floating across,
Searing flesh of rotten,
They were smeared across.

Time was upon them,
For it was ready to be.

Photo by Gage Walker on Unsplash