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Ghost Townhouse
Eerie inhabitants of the dead
Plague the haunted house,
Mirrors upon each wall: shattered;
Candles, once ignited by flame,
Now doused by the cool breeze,
The spirits continue to live within;
A man treads through the maze,
Of the damned—unknowingly dying,
With irony, he peers into his eyes,
Looking into the dark mirror: shattered;
Then, the black cat walks before him…
“What shall come upon my life?”
Cool breezes flow through the dead air,
And each breeze, upon his skin, chills his spine;
A racket of sound, behind him,
Frightens his stabilized mind
And he retreats into the shadows,
Cuddled in the corner, fence wire upon his back,
A dead, crippled hand grabs his shoulders;
“You now dine with me in hell…”
Mysteriously, the wire vanishes,
And so does his life as the dead
Drags him into the dark dead zone;
The man replies to the dead,
“Within the dark reaches
Of my imperfect mind, I die.”
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| Category: Poems and Short Stories | Added by: Kyle (2009-09-29)
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| Views: 1627 | Comments: 6
| Rating: 0.0/0 |
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