Marks breathing picked up. shaking slightly as he reached over, opening the drawer to his desk. his gun. the Desert Eagle at was always sitting in his desk. he shut his eyes, hands folded now. whispering prayers under his breath.
( + )
โ โ
โ nโNnO iTsโs fIn-n-e... DรธnT worry... WHaโโats up, yOรป alRรฎghT? โ
It's almost as if the voice was perfectly recorded through an old radio. Almost as if something was using Mark's voice in an attempt to later mimic his own form later.
โ โ โ
Hearing a noiseโ the boy turned his headโ nothing.. turning back to his desk. Out the corner of his eyeโ he noticed it. The white pupil like dotโ breathing become uneasyโ calm down mark. Dont show fear.
โ . . . โ
โ โ โ
Something is inside @nghtwriter's room.
Something is under the bed, now sitting directly within the darkest corner of his room.
If he paid enough attention, Mark would catch the attention of a white pupil staring back at him.
โ โ โ
This next verse, this next verse though
These bars
Poopy-di scoop
Scoop-diddy-whoop
Whoop-di-scoop-di-poop
Poop-di-scoopty
Scoopty-whoop
Whoopity-scoop, whoop-poop
Poop-diddy, whoop-scoop
Poop, poop
Scoop-diddy-whoop
Whoop-diddy-scoop
Whoop-diddy-scoop, poop