Haunted

 

Haunted.

Hunted.

When I'm alone the voices

shout.

Things keep flying about.

I lose the will to fight.

In fact, I lose everything

that isn't nailed tight.

Things keep floating,

flying.

I often hear the sound of crying.

Is it mine?

It sounds

like the eternally dying.

 

Haunted.

Taunting voices

tease.

Can someone get me

out of here please?

The atmosphere

is killing me.

It's dead in here, and I'm

down on my knees.

I'm going to lose

my will to fight

If I sit here for an entire night,

with just these ghouls for company,

only trying to cause

me fright.

Oh shit. Now they've turned out the light.

 

Haunted.

I’m surrounded

by vague figures faking transparency.

They are see through,

but their thoughts don't speak true.

They just want to grind you down,

Sow the ashes

into the ground,

tie your mind in knots

until a tangled mess

is all you've got.

These ghastly wicked voices leer,

in the still delicate air,

as they speak

it crackles and creaks,

ready to splinter into your hair

filling your heart

with despair and fear.

 

 

 

Thanks for reading

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Peace, Love & Poetry 

 

Kyle