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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2128181-Ghost
Rated: E · Poetry · Ghost · #2128181
Things that go bump in the night.
Footfalls upon my floor early in the evening
moaning, groaning of my door as though the house is grieving
I turn to shout, but none comes out
my footsteps are not leaving
I'm aware, they're always there
latest in the evening

Footfalls upon my floor later in the night
dooming, glooming, always moving; never in my sight
My cries of hate are far too late
and turn to cries of fright
I'm still aware, they're always there
later in the night

Footfalls upon my floor early in the morn
wearing, tearing of my soul until it's frayed and torn
My will is shattered, the day is tattered
like of the one we're born
I'm most aware of when they're there
earliest in the morn
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