Poetry comeback!

A small town of simple people,
Living their lives as they believe,
Morning shines, the joggers whistle,
To the tune of crunching fallen leaves.

In the trees, the birds sing their choir,
Drowning the screams of terror and horror,
The pink flowers blooming by the roadside,
Were soon speckled with blood red dye.

The town river flows strongly,
Over and over the pickled dead body,
Chewed by the monsters of water's deep end,
Their master looks away, to his roses he tends.

Clouds part to reveal the mighty sky,
Casting a golden glow from its amber eye,
Onto the grassy field where children play,
As they ran around quiet, solemn graves.

One by one, their neighbors disappear,
Anxiety spread wide and clear,
Thus the people turn on their gears,
Eager to leave this town of fear.

Time flew and the town began to rot,
Along with the buried dear deceased,
The demon smiles, proud of his work,
Glad he made a mark with his deeds.

This was written June/July last year. I don't remember posting it anywhere. It tells the past of an abandoned, ghost town. I think I was in the Supernatural (series) mood while writing it. Interpret it however you want.
I went for a free trial guitar lesson today. You know what I found that all 3 of the guitar teachers have in common? The way they speak and their tall and lanky figure...