A cold night would let of spine-chilling vibes, as they would walk silently. Hiding themselves among the shadows, showing no emotion deep within their sorrow. They had no shadows, they had no soul. Emptiness was all that they held. Their darkened figures would walk together, staying away from those who were lighter.
They were different, they were not like the others. Some could call them as 'The Devils Followers'. They were not friendly nor were they nice. Teeth, they had, sharp as a knife. Blood as cold, as the wind that blew by. Sorrow hiding deep down inside.
They wore cloaks, as dark as their souls, they held knifes as sharp as their sorrow. Following the demons, tracking the weak. Waiting for those who helped the sweet.
Dark alleyways, holding cold-hearted killers. They had dark hearts, with a crooked smirk. They been tormented and tortured, hurt and burned. They hated anything that stayed in the light.
© DarkShadow