He lays down his weary head
on the broken bed,
where dreams are left for dead.
In this sleepy room,
in this creepy town,
off the road
where the devil's minions
saunter around.
In this old hotel,
where the floorboards do creak,
hiding dark secrets,
way too many to speak.
The rooms have heard stories
that would make your skin crawl.
Just like the cockroaches
climbing the walls.
Footsteps
in the darkened room.
Thudding
like a tension headache
that splits apart his mind.
But through the ever-expanding gloom
he sees nothing,
no feet there to find.
The air now freezing,
though the windows are firmly shut.
His mind reeling,
clouded feeling
like it's coated in thick soot.
Tries in vain to close his eyes,
to sleep away the dread.
But now he feels the covers
being pulled from off the bed.
As he feels the cold fingers
touch his exposed leg,
he lets out a scream,
that would normally wake the dead.
Except now his voice is silent,
no sound comes from inside.
He slowly looks under the bed...
Full of bloodstained teeth,
the smile looming back at him
is very wide indeed
Thanks for reading
Peace, Love and Poetry
Kyle..
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