Tuesday, April 15, 2008

Scary Poem

Rusted chains with dark blood stains,
A corpse staring with empty eyes;
Demented clowns with forever frowns,
Masked men with butcher knives.

The slow ticking of a clock, the unlatching of a lock,
The creeping of footsteps down the hall;
Muffled screams from cut-short dreams,
The splatter of blood and gore against the wall.

In my head spin round these awful sights and sounds,
In the middle of my restless and fitful sleep;
I jolt up upright with terror and fright,
At the smallest mysterious peep.

I barricade the door and fall to the floor,
And hold my breath as I hide under my bed;
I silently pray in my humble, simple way,
That they should take my brother instead!

Okay, so don't go copying this and saying it's your's, blah blah blah... you won't see your blender again... wish you never bought shag carpet... take down the cat that was nailed on your door...
This poem I wrote just now. Literally, in the last six minutes. I was inspired by a friend of mine who is constantly remarking that I should write more "dark" stuff. I think this is "dark" enough, except for the end, where I couldn't help adding my own humor into it.