Cleaning out my filing cabinet last night, I stumbled upon yet ANOTHER half-filled journal. Man, people…STOP LETTING ME NEAR THE STATIONERY UNSUPERVISED!
Anyways, this one has another poem! I wrote it when I was nineteen years old, sitting in the kitchen of the very first apartment that I lived in alone. I actually remember writing it. No, that’s a lie, but I do remember writing other things in the book. Here it is.
Footsteps
Trace the footsteps up the wall
Barely even heard them fall
But I still could smell them there
The scent of evil in the air.
Breathe it in, it tastes like hate
Murder lingers in this place.
Someone died here long ago.
Did I just see….yes, the room has grown!
The ceiling’s dripping blood on me
The walls are leaking, this can’t be!
I cannot die here, not tonight
I cannot die, this can’t be right!
And as the blood is choking me
As my final breath I breathe
One can hear my gurgled plea
“I cannot die here…Please help me!”
Robin's Nest 