Comments about victoria driver
Sounds like someone downstairs, creeping through my house,
Tiptoeing up the stairs, quiet as a mouse.
They reach my bedroom door, intend to take my life,
They grip the handle before taking out a knife.
Easing into my abode, they see me in my bed,
They're planning how to kill me, how to stop me dead.
They approach my bedside and hold up the blade,
And plunge it deep into my chest, the slightest bit unswayed.
I wake to see the burglar and the bloody show,