The Axe Man Poem by ONY ME.

Chip, chip, chip
as he chisels at the door,
what is he trying
to gain entry for?

All is quiet
and all are asleep,
so up the stairs
he has to creep.

You know not why
but you wake with a fright,
you sit up quick
and oh what a sight.

For there, in front
at the end of your bed,
stands a man with an axe
not a word to be said.

No time for reaction
you sweat in despair,
as he wields his axe
way up in the air.

As quick as a flash
he brings it down,
it's now embedded
in your crown.

He leaves as he came
but this time, fast,
for he knows your breath
was definitely your last.

But he's still out there somewhere
chipping at doors,
i wonder who's next
could it be yours?