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Haunted House, a poem

Features Poetry

Haunted House, a poem


Among the witches and the bones of skeletons, 

There is true horror in the false pretense. 

Of affection and love,

Come spiders and bugs. 

On the darkest night, looking for the light,

The fog creeped in…looking for a fight. 

Everything was still,

You were waiting for the kill. 

Running away and away,

Keeping the fear at bay,

It never really worked by the way. 

The house that was warm,

Didn’t know the echos of when it was born. 

When everything changed. 

The bodies were buried in the basement,

The evidence littered the pavement. 

Of a childhood stolen, 

a life left behind,

I even learned how to rhyme. 

The ghost of us will always be,

In the cracks of the walls where we used to see. 

Anything and everything of where you lurked,

Always avoiding your evil hurt. 

Every secret we were forced to keep,

Came to life in the act of sleep. 

Dreams that were once filled with love and care,

Turned in to an endless nightmare. 

Halloween is overlooked,

It’s not how we read in books. 

Sometimes the real monsters are not the ones on the screens.

Or even the ones in between. 

They’re the ones who make you feel as small as a mouse,

The ones who take your home and turn it into a haunted house. 

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