In the dark of night,

  Franklin rose in fright, confused.

  He was cold, so cold.

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  Life was lost to him,

  Skin and flesh rotting from bone.

  The cold, oppressive.

  The moonlight, charring.

  Crawling from his grave, Franklin

  Screamed, a mess; confused.

  “Help me!” No reply,

  “Why me?” He cried. Franklin weeped,

  through this horrid night.

  Come morning he slept,

  Bones moved no more. Body strewn

  On the forest floor.