They heard in their heads the groans of the slain.
They saw with their minds the images formed, which nearly drove them mad.
They shouted at the top of their lungs, the fears budding in their bellies.
They tore at their skins from their suffering, fathomed.
They stopped only to see the realisation of their dreaded thoughts.
Only if they had taken heed to the warnings of the man they called 'Crazy.’
Oh, how they scoffed at his delusions.
The only means of their escape, scaled by their unbelief, and now they weep, torn apart by the avoidable terrors that now awaits.