There is a fear
In the curtains
It scratches the walls
At night, and creaks
Towards your bed
Softly tapping, ... softly.
He is nothing corporeal
And will not bring
You to great harm
If you keep on sleeping.
If you toss, if you turn
He will poke with
Needle long and dull.
Then you will wake
With bruises red,
With deep scarlet
On your sheets.
You will wake
And you'll be dead
For an instant
When you hear
Him coming ... back
18 Sept
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5 comments:
The best moment of the day was when I read this poem just before going to bed. Wheeeeeee!
Meowwwwwwwwwww
Little boy ghosts don't meow. They bake cookies for social functions.
I like cookies.
I hart monkeybees.
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