A Hollywood Horror

The wind is blowing
Trees are swaying
Doors are creaking
Things are playing

"What things?"
Is what you ask
Nothing in particular
Just some kids in masks

But wait, are they kids
Or are they adults
Let's take off the masks
And find out the results

What's this?
The masks do not come off?
Oh dear, here they come
Hear them jeer and scoff

Their nails are long and sharp
Their figures, gangly and dark
From a distance they look like children
Running around in the park

You'd best be on your way
If you wish them not to catch you
Or else these "things"
Might have a new soul or two

They'd take you by your hair
And drag you on the concrete
But nobody can hear you
As you scream on this abandoned street

Their nails would be digging
Deep into your skull
They'd grip your brain
And continue to pull

Blood streaming down your face
Filling your mouth and eyes
Never again to taste or see
The next morning's sunrise

They bring you to a dark alley
This place they call home
Where they tear you apart
And use your your ribs as a comb

They sort through your ruins
And pick off the good meat
Then leave your bones in a pile
Oh so very neat

Here I must end
For they're coming after me
Hopefully this gory mess
Your body never has to be