At the End of the Line | Creepypasta Stories Poetry | Dark Poems


Destiny willed that humanity would find nothing
but dust and thorns amidst the squall. From the tree’s hollow we crawled; The truth of our origins we’re forced to
haul. Finding comfort among the mass, Together, we choked on reality’s toxic gas. Stripped of all identity, We melded into one entity And united, we breathed in serenity. I once realized that I, too, was part of the
flies Only to be drowned out by the deafening roar
of their cries: Hymns praising our “divine” defendant, Portrayed resplendent and transcendent, Ringing from the mouth of my descendant. But the truth Is never pure in the eye of the sleuth. I was made to doubt; Made to tread the unholy route; Made to survive amidst knowledge’s drought. Humanity has established a great empire of
false hope, Supplementing truth for naive idealism to
help them cope. The despair of creation I now know And with enlightenment I glow. The error of our ways, I want to show. I contemplated how to pierce their warped
illusion And in the knife’s mirror edge, I saw the
conclusion. As I messily burrowed into my own brother’s
skin, I asked “What have I become?” with a mad
grin; Praying that humanity would finally wake up
to our sins. For the reason we all breed, plead and bleed Is because we choke out reality with self-deceit’s
weeds. My family looked at what I had done, The weight of my actions bearing down on them
like the sun. The tears my brother had shed Were in their stead; And upon similar sacrifices, we were lead. Saints, martyrs and innocents alike give their
bodies for society to tread: My family was just the next string to be woven
into death’s grand thread. Reemerging from deep night, I watched as they
succumbed to phobias and fears; Overcome by angst, impossibility courses through
their veins and their flesh sears. “My sins are too great to bear,” they
said through sneers. The last of them forsook me as the tears I
swallow; My brethren retreated back to the hollow. To be ripped away from acceptance’s warmth
by a mighty bird? I only wanted my voice to be heard, And now the truth has been irrevocably blurred. Sour thoughts spilled in my mind; And to all reason, I am blind. In a lonely cabin, the rope was strung; “Do it; just do it,” the voices in my head
rung, Until their commands spilled from my necrotic
tongue. At the bell’s final toll, I realized my true role. Revelation after revelation had shown That I was truly alone; The solution finally arrived as I sat on my
throne. My brethren retreated back to the hollow: “Will I follow?”

20 thoughts on “At the End of the Line | Creepypasta Stories Poetry | Dark Poems

  1. this is a creepypasta poem called "at the end of the line" Remember to like and share the video 🙂

  2. Ohh yes, a video and I’m bored at work ! Couldn’t be anymore perfect!!😬

  3. I love you and your videos you read so fluently which makes it better to imagine and I Hope you have the best in life

  4. I feel like this was written by Dr. Seuss on a lot of downers 😂😂

  5. meh. the rhyming prose takes away any semblance of creepiness this could have had. ugh. narration is good as always though

  6. Loved your poetry.
    I found God in you – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2F9vfwZuICw

  7. New fav narrator hope to watch ur channel grow to be as big as mcp and creeps

  8. Long
    in gloom I sat with her, crying, wailing my heart and soul.

    For
    doom beat me to her – the beautiful, Elliva Tor – then I felt a hole, deep in
    my heart and soul.

    And
    as I cradled her humiliated corpse, thinking what horrors befell her, suddenly,
    I felt an ominous presence sneaking, its fowl stench creeping.

    Then
    my heart and soul started sinking and then I started thinking, what creature is
    this creaking, and what for does it loom before me and Elliva Tor?

    “No
    creature,” it said. “Crinus the Mor.”

    “Crinus
    the Mor?” I repeated. “Of terrible yore?”

    And
    then Crinus said, “Yes, you know me sure.”

    “Why,
    of course,” I said. “I have read your lore.”

    “Oh…then
    you must know the horrors that I bore.”

    “Yes…and
    still bear,” I snapped.

    As
    he chuckled and clapped.

    “And
    do you think I have come to ensnare?”

    “Or
    perhaps I have simply stumbled upon your lair?”

    “In
    witness of your dead friend…aww, so unfair.”

    “Do
    not mock my friend.”

    “It
    is not my intention to offend – only my hand I wish to lend.”

    As
    I turned, I discerned.

    Thick
    heavy rustling robes of rotten meat and flesh, fresh in my eyes now shot with
    threat.

    As
    I stared with regret at his grotesque rotting skull-like face.

    My
    fearful heart risking it all at its fastest pace.

    His
    eyes like red moons glaring, transfixing me.

    And
    now, in all this red terror, my deepest wish is to be free.

    And
    then Crinus said, “A deal I offer thee.”

    Then
    I thought, what deal hath he?

    Then
    Crinus said, “Your word, for the kingdom of darkness.”

    “My
    word, for the kingdom of darkness, where all lies heartless, surely you know I
    won’t accept such madness.”

    “In
    darkness and madness, I promise gladness.”

     “Never can my word remove this sadness.”

    “Forever,
    your word, will bring you solace, for the kingdom of darkness, for horror, for
    terror, for evil, for I, Crinus the Mor, shall avenge my greatest enemy, the
    most beautiful, most kindest, altruist, Elliva Tor.”

    And
    as I thought long and hard about his offer while he displayed infinite patience
    in total darkness, eventually, I gave my answer – or should I say, my word.

    “With
    the death of Elliva Tor, the kingdom of darkness has already risen. I demand
    that you remove the mask from the world, this lie of light. I demand you
    convince the world how ugly sin has made it. I demand that at men’s despair,
    you reject forgiveness, you reject mercy. I give you my word. In the name of
    Elliva Tor, purge.”  

    And
    then Crinus placed his branch-like hand into his vile mouth, and pulled from
    the black abyss of his throat, a creature, so small in between his finger and
    thumb, so black, making such feeble unintelligible noises, flailing its many
    arms and legs.

    “What
    is that ghastly thing?” I asked.

    “A
    seed…and once planted, it will sing.”

    “Sing?
    A song…but what will it bring?”

    “Why…the
    kingdom of darkness, of course, and a new king.”

    Then
    he placed this tiny restless creature on Elliva’s ghostly chest, and then it
    started eating through her breast, burrowing deep inside. Then, as Elliva’s
    corpse started convulsing, there was a harrowing scream.

    What
    have I done, I thought.   

    It
    seemed as if the world was about to end, if not now, then certainly soon.

    The
    ground shook violently.

    The
    light died, its best it tried.

    Darkness
    consuming all.

    Then…the
    darkness gave form – from Elliva, come – the kingdom of infinite horrors.

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